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THE  WORK-A-DAY  GIRL 


By  CLARA  E.  LAUGHLIN 


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ALL  THEIR  TIME  FOR  PART  OF  THEIR  "KEEP." 

These  thirteen-year-old  girls  think  they  are  helping  to  sup- 
port their  families  because  they  turn  over  to  them  the  $3.50  per 
week  they  earn.  The  fact  is,  this  is  less  than  their  "  keep " 
costs.  Who  pays  the  deficit? 


THE 
WORK-A-DAY  GIRL 

A  Study  of  Some  Present -Day  Conditions 


BY 

CLARA  E.  LAUGHLIN 

Author  of 

"The  Evolution  of  a  Girl's  Ideal,"  "Everybody's 
Lonesome,"  etc. 

ILLUSTRATED 


NEW  YORK  CHICAGO  TORONTO 

Fleming    H.    Revell    Company 

LONDON         AND          EDINBURGH 


Copyright,  1913,  by 
FLEMING  H.  REVELL  COMPANY 


New  York:  158  Fifth  Avenue 
Chicago:  125  N.  Wabash  Ave. 
Toronto:  25  Richmond  St.,  W. 
London:  21  Paternoster  Square 
Edinburgh:  100  Princes  Street 


To 

JOHN  THOMPSON 


272251 


CONTENTS 

INTRODUCTION n 

I.  AT  THE  NIGHT  COURT        .        .        .        .21 

II.  THE  EFFORT  TO  SAVE  GIRLS     ...  46 

III.  WHERE  THE  TROUBLE  BEGINS     ...  72 

IV.  THE  INDICTMENT  OF  THE  HOME          .        .  90 
V.  HER  DAILY  BREAD 107 

VI.  THE  GIRL  WHO  EARNS  $6  A  WEEK   .        .127 

VII.  MINIMUM  WAGE 156 

VIII.  MAMIE'S  DEFICIT 177 

IX.  GIRLS'  SCHOOLING 210 

X.  FORCED  OUT 237 

XI.  THE  PRICE  OF  PROGRESS    ....  263 

XII.  "THE  WOMAN  OF  IT"        ....  289 


ILLUSTRATIONS 


FACING 
PAGE 


All  Their  Time  for  Part  of  Their  "  Keep  "  .  Title 

Where  Workers  and  Workless  Meet  ...  27 
A  Common  Sight  in  Eastern  Cities  ...  46 
Well-Regulated  Work  Is  the  Best  Kind  of  Fun  .  72 

The  Family  Breadwinner 90 

Learning  the  Art  of  Selling 107 

A  Kitchen  Cozy  Corner 133 

Being  Prepared  to  Earn  Their  Living  .  .  .177 
Learning  a  Trade  That  Pays  Well  .  .  .210 

While  Other  Folks  Sleep 237 

An  Effort  to  Revive  Wholesome  Pastimes  .  .  263 
Her  Father's  Assistant 289 


INTRODUCTION 

THE  chapters  of  which  this  book  is  composed 
were  written  from  time  to  time  during  a  period 
of  about  three  years,  on  order  for  magazines. 
This  means  that  they  are  journalistic  rather  than 
academic.  The  editorial  orders  came  to  the  author 
not  because  she  had  any  special  knowledge  of  the  sub- 
jects nor  any  special  advantage  for  observation  and 
investigation,  but  solely  because  certain  editors  be- 
lieved her  sympathetic  and  candid,  and  told  her  to 
"  look  into  "  some  phases  of  the  work-a-day  girl's  re- 
lations to  society. 

It  is  hoped,  therefore,  that  the  book  may  be  judged 
not  as  the  work  of  one  speaking  with  authority,  but 
as  the  observations  of  one  who  can  claim  scarcely  any 
other  qualification  for  the  task  than  an  exceeding  great' 
interest  in  it,  and  an  "  eagerness  to  know  "  which  has 
made  her  study  of  it  at  least  fairly  comprehensive. 
The  range  of  reading  covered  in  the  preparation  of 
these  chapters  may  without  exaggeration  be  called 
enormous;  and  the  range  of  personal  interviews  and 
investigations  was  not  less.  It  could  scarcely  have 
been  possible  for  any  one  to  put  more  work  into  a 
volume  of  this  size;  but  the  same  amount  of  labour 

performed  by  a  scholar  in  social  science  would  doubt- 

11 


13  INTRODUCTION 

less  have  produced  a  work  of  authority — whereas, 
the  most  that  can  be  hoped  for  these  chapters  is  that 
here  or  there  among  them  a  reader  may  find  some 
suggestion  upon  which  he  or  she  may  act  in  the  great 
Opportunity,  the  great  Privilege,  of  social  betterment. 
Nearly  every  one,  in  these  days  of  new  visions,  is 
eager  to  serve ;  is  saying :  ' '  Here  am  I !  What  can  I 
do  ? "  The  author  of  these  chapters  has  tried  very 
earnestly  to  learn  what  can  be  done — not  alone  by 
legislators  and  by  others  specially  empowered,  but  by 
average  men  and  women  of  many  cares  and  limited 
opportunities.  She  has  endeavoured,  in  this  book,  to 
make  some  suggestions  of  great  services  which  are 
within  the  power  of  nearly  every  reader.  The  readers' 
of  the  magazines  in  which  the  articles  appeared, 
showed,  in  their  correspondence  with  the  author,  a 
spirit  of  eagerness  to  serve,  of  wistfulness  to  be  shown 
a  way,  that  made  it  seem  probable  there  would  be  a' 
public  for  the  chapters  in  book  form. 

So  they  are  here  presented,  in  the  order  in  which 
they  were  written.  This  order  has  been  preserved 
because  the  author  thinks  it  may  be  somewhat  typical 
of  the  steps  by  which  many  observers  go,  from  effects 
back  to  causes. 

It  is  a  matter  of  only  a  very  few  years — some  four 
or  five — since  the  American  social  conscience  rebelled 
against  the  practice  of  locking  up  overnight  persons 
who  were  arrested  after  police  court  hours  in  the  after- 
noon, and  so  unable  to  get  a  hearing  until  the  next  day. 


INTRODUCTION  13 

Many  who  suffer  arrest  are  able  to  clear  themselves  im- 
mediately on  appearing  before  a  magistrate.  So,  New 
York  City  instituted  a  Night  Court  where  such  as  were 
arrested  after  four  o'clock  in  the  afternoon  could 
be  heard  after  not  more  than  a  few  hours'  deten- 
tion. 

This  Night  Court,  the  only  one  in  the  world,  aroused 
wide  interest;  many  persons  concerned  in  the  ad- 
ministration of  justice  and  many  more  who  had  never 
before  visited  a  police  court,  attended  its  sessions. 
The  author  of  these  chapters  was  interested  in  this  as, 
previously,  she  had  been  interested  in  the  pioneer 
juvenile  courts;  her  interest  was  like  that  of  thousands, 
the  country  over,  who  rejoice  at  each  new  move  in 
what  seems  the  direction  of  a  broader,  deeper,  kindlier 
humanitarianism.  That  was  why  an  editor  (to  whom 
she  will  never  be  able  sufficiently  to  acknowledge  her 
indebtedness)  said  to  her:  "  There  are  a  lot  of  people 
who  have  the  same  kind  of  interest  you  have,  but  have 
not  your  opportunity  of  seeing  for  themselves.  Tell 
them  about  the  Night  Court  as  you  see  it." 

As  she  first  saw  it,  it  was  a  court  for  offenders  of 
both  sexes  and  of  many  sorts;  the  procession  before 
the  magistrate  contained  boys  arrested  for  playing 
baseball  in  crowded  streets,  men  arrested  for  peddling 
without  a  license,  chauffeurs  who  had  exceeded  the 
speed  limit,  dock  labourers  who  had  grown  too  bellig- 
erent in  drink,  male  creatures  of  many  sorts  and  ages 
who  had  made  assaults  upon  little  girls,  and  a  variety 


14  INTRODUCTION 

of  other  offenders;  but  the  majority  were  women,  and 
most  of  them  were  there  on  charges  of  immoral  con- 
duct forbidden  by  the  statutes  of  New  York. 

After  a  while  it  became  necessary  to  have  two  Night 
Courts  in  New  York,  and  the  growing  feeling  that 
men  and  women  should  not  be  heard  at  the  same  tri- 
bunal, was  respected :  the  original  Night  Court  at  Jef- 
ferson Market  became  a  court  for  women  only.  (Bos- 
ton had  led  the  way  in  a  separate  court  for  women. 
Chicago  is  now  hearing  in  private,  before  a  woman 
judge  and  women  court  officers,  the  cases  of  delin- 
quent young  girls — sparing  them  both  shame  and  pub- 
licity. Three  or  four  years  ago,  when  the  author  of 
these  chapters  began  frequenting  the  Jefferson  Market 
Night  Court,  it  seemed  a  great  step  forward  to  find  a 
woman  probation  officer  always  on  duty;  now,  in 
Chicago,  it  seems  no  more  than  a  beginning  of  what 
should  be,  to  sit  in  Judge  Mary  Bartelme's  little  room 
with  its  door  locked  against  the  world,  and  see  young 
girls  in  close  counsel  with  a  wise,  tender  little  woman, 
wistful  to  help  them  redirect  their  lives.) 

The  Night  Court  presented,  most  urgently,  a  prob- 
lem in  erring  girls.  It  seemed  quite  reasonable,  at  that 
early  stage  of  the  author's  progress,  to  ask  the  girls 
why  they  were  there.  As  if  they  knew! 

Then,  when  one  had  talked  with  a  number  of  girls 
like  "  Florence,"  it  was  inevitable  that  a  deep  dejection 
should  ensue.  Magistrates,  matrons,  probation  officers, 
rescue  workers,  all  contributed  to  the  feeling  of  despair 


INTRODUCTION  15 

regarding  the  Florences.  "What's  to  be  done?" 
"  Well,  whatever  salvage  may  be  effected  is  to  be 
worked  for  among  the  betrayed  girls  who  have  not 
yet  become  public  prostitutes." 

This  led  to  the  article  on  "The  Effort  to  Save 
Girls."  And  that,  as  inevitably,  led  to  "Where  the 
Trouble  Begins  "  and  "  The  Indictment  of  the  Home  " 
as  set  forth  particularly  in  the  United  States  Senate 
Report  on  "  The  Relation  of  Occupation  to  Crimi- 
nality and  Immorality  Among  Women."  Many  per- 
sons were  charging  modern  industrialism  with  the 
downfall  of  girls — crying  that  there  was  danger  in 
going  away  from  home  to  work.  The  Government 
investigators  found  that  not  industrialism  but  the 
slipshod  home  was  the  chief  contributing  source  of 
female  delinquency. 

Then  began  a  study  of  the  kinds  of  homes  from 
which  many  of  our  girl  workers  come,  and  of  the 
family  economics.  The  report  rendered,  after  years 
of  thorough  investigation,  to  the  United  States  Senate, 
was  destructive  of  the  old  notion  that  most  girls  work 
for  pin-money  or  for  gewgaws.  Four-fifths  of  them 
were  found  to  hand  over  all  their  earnings  to  the  family 
fund.  What  were  the  conditions  which  made  this 
necessary  ?  How  different,  essentially,  were  they  from 
the  old  conditions  whose  passing  so  many  persons  de- 
plore? How  necessary  are  these  differences?  Could 
they  be  argued  or  legislated  away?  Or  are  they  an 
inevitable  phase  of  our  social  and  economic  evolution? 


16  INTRODUCTION 

These  were  a  few  of  the  questions  that  arose  and 
demanded  inquiry. 

The  notion  that  money  paid  to  girl  workers  was  in 
the  nature  of  a  contribution  to  their  candy  and  feather 
fund,  seemed  deeply  imbedded  in  many  minds — es- 
pecially in  the  minds  of  those  who  employ  girls' 
labour.  On  one  hand  were  outcries  against  the  small 
wages  paid  to  girl  workers,  and  demands  for  Minimum 
Wage  legislation.  On  the  other  hand  were  retorts 
that  girl  workers  were  inefficient,  undependable,  and 
worth  no  more  than  the  small  sums  for  which  they 
willingly  sold  their  labour. 

In  studying  the  pros  and  cons  of  Minimum  Wage 
legislation,  it  became  evident  that  girls  are  indeed  ill 
prepared  for  that  industrial  phase  which  most  of  them 
now  enter  upon  for  a  longer  or  shorter  period ;  and  also 
that  they  are  ill  paid,  usually,  even  for  the  kind  of 
service  they  render.  A  tragic  proportion  of  them  are 
not  paid  enough  to  keep  body  and  soul  together.  The 
deficit  must  always  be  made  up.  Who  pays  it?  That 
led  to  some  startling  revelations,  and  disclosed  an 
astoundingly  prevalent  conviction  that  women  have 
always  been  "  supported "  by  some  one  other  than 
themselves;  that  their  labour  has  never  been  reckoned 
worth  their  "  keep,"  but  that  the  difference  has  been 
obligingly  made  up  by  somebody. 

A  very  superficial  glance  at  the  history  of  woman 
and  her  share  in  the  world's  work  serves  to  dispel 
this  curious  idea.  But  only  a  few  persons,  it  would 


INTRODUCTION  17 

seem,  have  given  the  facts  even  a  superficial  survey. 
The  last  three  chapters  of  this  book  summarize,  to  the 
best  of  the  author's  present  ability,  some  of  the  most 
salient  truths  about  woman  and  industry.  In  the 
gathering  of  these  truths  the  author  has  neglected,  she 
thinks  she  may  say,  no  important  work  in  English  on 
women  and  economics,  sex  and  society,  or  any  kindred 
topic.  The  gist  of  them  all  is  very  simple:  Woman 
was  the  creator  of  industry;  she  has  always  performed 
a  major  share  of  the  world's  work;  when  she  has 
relinquished  to  man  a  field  of  labour  of  which  neces- 
sity made  her  the  mother,  she  has  either  made  for  her- 
self another  field  or,  failing  that,  has  become  the  pro- 
genitress of  a  decadent  race.  The  nations  on  the 
"  up  grade "  have  always  been  the  nations  whose 
women  were  vigorous  creatprs  of  industry.  The  na- 
tions on  the  "  down  grade  "  have  always  owed  their 
decline  to  the  wealth  which  divorced  the  women  of 
their  ruling  classes  from  the  development  that  labour 
gives,  and  made  of  them  weak  parasites  and  pamper- 
ing mothers. 

Dense  ignorance  of  the  past  and  of  its  lessons  has 
bred  in  many  persons  of  to-day  an  attitude  toward 
women  and  self-sustaining  labour  which  must  be  cor- 
rected. There  has  been  a  marvellous  increase  of  com- 
mon sense  in  the  last  few  years;  but  even  yet  there 
are  too  many  women  who  wear  an  apologetic  manner 
because  they  earn  their  bread,  and  too  few  who  are 
apologetic  because  they  don't  earn  it !  Even  yet  there 


18  INTRODUCTION 

is  a  great  deal  of  confusion  in  many  minds  about 
women  "  going  to  work."  As  if  they  had  not  always 
been  very  busily  at  work,  maintaining  themselves  and 
others  with  the  labour  of  their  hands,  the  ingenuity 
of  their  brains ! 

The  work-a-day  girl  is  no  new  product.  But  she 
works,  now,  under  new  conditions,  many  of  which  are 
bewilderingly  strange  not  to  her  only,  but  to  her  family, 
to  her  employer,  and  to  the  social  order  of  which  she 
is  so  important  a  part.  The  hope  of  helping  even  a 
few  readers  to  realize  how  this  change  has  come  about 
and  how  exceedingly  necessary  it  is  that  we  meet  it 
intelligently,  has  animated  the  author  of  these 
chapters. 

She  trusts  that  no  explanation  of  their  semi-story 
form  will  seem  to  have  been  called  for.  Also,  that  the 
plain  speaking  may  nowhere  offend.  She  has  a  very 
vivid  memory  of  those  not-so-distant  years  when  her 
own  curiosity  was  set  violently  in  motion  by  what  were 
meant  for  "  discreet  allusions."  For  instance,  it  has 
been  suggested  that  in  telling  about  Florence  Arthur, 
in  the  first  chapter  of  this  book,  the  author  should  have 
contented  herself  with  saying  that  Florence  was  ar- 
rested on  a  serious  charge  and  taken  to  the  Night 
Court.  Could  anything  more  completely  "  kill "  all 
that  follows,  and  keep  the  mind  unacquainted  with 
the  sorry  facts  of  street-walking,  intent  on :  "  What 
was  it  that  she  did  ?  "  Could  anything  be  more  im- 
portant for  a  fun-loving  young  girl  to  know  than  the 


INTRODUCTION  19 

reason  why  she  must  be  so  circumspect  on  the  streets 
and  in  all  public  places,  so  that  she  shall  give  no  one 
cause  to  question  her? 

The  slogan  so  reluctantly  adopted  by  poor  little 
Katie  (as  told  in  the  second  chapter)  has  also  been 
questioned — not  for  its  truthfulness,  but  for  the  ad- 
visability of  printing  it.  The  phrase  was  used  as  in 
his  opinion  expressing  the  crux  of  a  terribly  grave 
situation,  by  a  man  who  knows  more  about  the  tempta- 
tions of  the  young  working  girl  than  any  one  the 
author  has  ever  met.  After  years  of  experience  on 
thousands  of  cases  of  delinquency,  he  declared  that 
the  hardest  thing  he  had  to  fight  was  that  oft-repeated 
cry :  "  You  gotta  be  a  good  Indian !  "  Few  indeed  are 
the  girls  who,  after  a  very  short  experience  in  making 
their  way  in  the  world,  have  hot  had  this  hideous  sug- 
gestion made  to  them.  What  end  shall  we  then  serve 
by  eliminating  it  from  a  story  of  their  temptations? 
The  author,  frankly,  cannot  grasp  this  point  «of  view. 
She  cannot  believe  that  chapters  written  so  earnestly 
and  with  such  deep  affection  for  the  little  sisters  who 
face  the  world  for  their  daily  bread,  can  either  offend 
or  mislead.  If  she  errs,  in  this,  she  very  humbly  begs 

pardon. 

C.  E.  L. 

Chicago. 


AT  THE  NIGHT  COURT 

THE  Saturday  night  theatre  crowds  thronged 
Broadway.  It  was  a  few  minutes  past  eight 
on  a  mellow  October  evening,  and  even  people 
who  were  anticipating  a  treat  in  the  playhouse  seemed 
a  little  loath  to  go  in  out  of  the  soft  night  air. 
Limousines  and  taxis,  darting  at  breakneck  speed  up 
and  down  Broadway  and  around  the  corners  of  the 
cross  streets,  had  their  windows  down,  revealing  for 
a  fraction  of  a  second,  as  they  flashed  by,  glimpses  of 
girls  and  women  in  filmy  finery,  their  light  wraps  not 
even  drawn  together  over  their  bare  throats.  Street 
cars  discharged  crowds  of  hatless  femininity  in  light 
frocks  at  the  theatre  doors.  Florists'  shop  windows 
were  marvels  of  colour — orchids  and  violets  and  lilies- 
of-the-valley  and  gardenias  and  chrysanthemums  and 
American  Beauties  and  Killarney  roses,  displayed 
against  backgrounds  of  feathery  green  ferns  and 
bronze  autumn  leaves.  Cheap  jewellery  stores,  and  a 
few  of  the  better  class,  poured  floods  of  electric  light 
on  their  glittering  displays.  Hundreds  of  young 
working  folk — lads  and  lassies — in  pairs,  in  little 
groups,  surged  up  and  down  taking  in  the  sights. 

Hundreds  of  "  has-beens  "  slouched  amid  the  throngs, 

21 


22  THE  WORK-A-DAY  GIRL 

cynically  reflective.  Swift  and  ceaseless  as  the  rush 
of  waters  through  Niagara  Gorge  or  Yellowstone 
Canon  is  the  torrent  of  the  human  current  through 
the  dazzling  Great  White  Way. 

Near  the  corner  of  Thirtieth  Street  a  girl  loitered, 
looking  in  the  windows  of  a  candy  shop  and  a  cheap 
jeweller's  next  to  Daly's  Theatre.  She  was  a  pretty 
girl,  of  a  quiet,  unobtrusive  sort,  and  as  modest-look- 
ing as  any  of  the  girls  who  thronged  the  street.  Her 
neat  suit  was  brown,  and  she  had  a  black  hat  with 
ostrich  feathers,  of  the  type  thousands  of  working 
girls  buy  for  "  best." 

A  man  stopped  at  the  window  a-glitter  with  rhine- 
stones.  Out  of  the  corner  of  her  eye  the  girl  marked 
him ;  he  was  alone,  and  his  leisurely  manner  indicated 
that  he  had  nothing  particular  to  do.  The  girl  moved 
a  little  closer.  "  Good-evening,"  she  said.  Her  man- 
ner was  almost  timid,  but  the  man  was  city-wise. 
Whether  his  morals  were  offended,  or  his  taste  was 
not  appealed  to,  or  his  mood  was  not  propitious,  the 
girl  would  never  know;  but  he  moved  away. 

The  girl  was  about  to  saunter  along,  when  a  second 
man  came  up  to  the  window  and  looked  in.  He  lifted 
his  gaze  from  the  glittering  gewgaws  to  glance  cov- 
ertly at  the  girl.  Something  indefinable  in  his  manner 
made  her  feel  that  he  would  not  resent  being  spoken 
to.  She  tried  again. 

This    man    answered.     "  Good-evening,"    he    said. 
"  It's  a  fine  night,  ain't  it?  " 
j 


AT  THE  NIGHT  COURT  23 

"Yes,"  agreed  the  girl.  "Don't  you  feel  like 
havin'  a  god)d  time?" 

"Sure!    Where?" 

She  nameid  a  hotel  of  the  kind  seldom  resorted  to 
for  any  but  disreputable  purposes. 

"  You're  under  arrest !  "  said  the  man,  opening  his 
coat  and  showing  his  badge.  He  was  a  plain-clothes 
detective  from  the  Thirtieth  Street  police  station. 

There,  a  few  minutes  later,  she  was  booked.  She 
gave  her  name  as  Florence  Arthur,  her  age  as  twenty- 
three,  and  her  residence  as  on  Twenty-seventh  Street 
between  Sixth  and  Seventh  Avenues.  The  affidavit 
filed  against  her  set  forth  that  she  was  "  a  common 
prostitute  and  street  walker,"  and  that,  in  violation  of 
the  statute  of  the  State  of  New  York  "  in  such  cases 
made  and  provided,"  she  had  stopped  John  Feeny 
"  for  such  purpose,"  naming  the  place  and  the  hour. 
To  this  John  Feeny  swore,  and  Florence  was  held 
for  an  hour  or  so  until  there  were,  at  the  Thirtieth 
Street  station,  enough  women  who  were  entitled  to 
immediate  hearing  at  the  Night  Court,  to  make  a 
wagon  load.  Then  they  and  the  officers  who  had 
made  the  arrests  were  driven  down  to  Jefferson  Mar- 
ket Court  at  Sixth  Avenue  and  Tenth  Street. 

Arrived  at  the  receiving  door  for  prisoners  on  the 
Tenth  Street  side  of  the  Jefferson  Market  building, 
John  Feeny  entered  Florence's  name,  his  own,  and  the 
charge  against  her.  Then  she  was  locked  up  in  the 
receiving  pen  for  women  and  he  went  to  the  desk 


24s  THE  WORK-A-DAY  GIRL 

of  the  clerk  of  the  court  and  stated  the  particulars, 
so  that  papers  might  be  made  out  for  the  case.  This 
done,  he  awaited  the  call  to  appear. 

In  the  pen  with  Florence  were  eight  other  women 
and  girls  who,  like  herself,  had  been  arrested  since 
4  P.M.,  charged  with  misdemeanours  and  disorderly 
conduct,  not  felonies.  It  was  a  large  cell,  perhaps 
twenty-five  feet  square,  and  wooden  benches  ran 
around  three  sides;  the  fourth  side  was  iron-barred 
and  through  the  bars  could  be  seen  all  that  went  on 
in  the  corridor  outside.  The  walls  of  the  pen  were 
whitewashed,  and  it  was  brightly  lighted  with  elec- 
tricity. When  the  first  of  the  night  prisoners  was 
put  into  it,  it  was  quite  unobjectionably  clean;  but 
already  the  air  in  it  was  becoming  foul. 

Two  of  the  women  in  the  pen  were  drunk — one  in  a 
heavy  stupor,  and  one  noisy  and  violent.  The  woman 
in  the  stupor  was  a  white  woman,  and  young;  she 
wore  a  dark  blue  calico  wrapper  and  neither  hat  nor 
coat,  and  she  was  lying  in  a  heap  on  the  stone  floor. 
Two  or  three  times  her  fellow-prisoners  had  tried  to 
dispose  her  decently  on  the  narrow  bench,  but  she 
repeatedly  rolled  off.  The  disorderly  drunk  was  a 
negress;  she  was  middle-aged  and  ample  and  terribly 
obscene. 

One  woman  was  crying;  she  was  an  eminently  re- 
spectable-looking woman,  almost  smartly  dressed,  and 
she  had  been  arrested  just  before  closing  time  in  a 
Sixth  Avenue  store,  charged  with  shoplifting.  Try- 


AT  THE  NIGHT  COURT  25 

ing  occasionally  to  console  her  was  a  younger  woman 
wearing  the  full  livery  of  poverty  at  its  pinchingest; 
she  had,  too,  the  mark  of  consumption  in  her  thin 
face,  as  well  as  signs  of  the  ravages  of  a  vile  disease. 
She  was  there  on  a  charge  of  violating  the  tenement 
house  act  which  makes  it  unlawful  for  a  woman  to 
use  for  immoral  purposes  a  room  in  any  "  building 
occupied  as  the  home  or  residence  of  three  families  or 
more,  living  independently  of  each  other  and  doing 
their  own  cooking  upon  said  premises." 

Besides  these,  there  were  four  girls.  One  was  very 
young  and  very  frightened ;  she  sat  still,  in  a  far  cor- 
ner of  the  pen,  cowering,  and  when  any  one  passed 
through  the  corridor,  she  hid  her  face  with  her  hands. 
One  girl  was  expensively  dressed  and  defiant.  One,  a 
Jewess,  was  showily  but  shoddily  dressed,  and  appar- 
ently unconcerned.  One  was  a  coloured  girl,  in  Sev- 
enth Avenue  finery;  she  was  cheerful,  unabashed,  and 
had  the  same  curious  interest  in  her  cellmates,  their 
clothes,  their  grievances,  their  places  of  residence  and 
modes  of  life,  that  another  class  of  woman  shows  at 
a  tea  party  or  meeting  of  the  sewing  circle.  All  these 
girls  were  booked  on  the  same  charge  as  that  made 
against  Florence. 

The  magistrate  arrived  a  little  before  eight,  and 
promptly  at  eight  an  officer  came  to  the  pen,  called 
"  May  Mooney,"  and  the  frightened  little  girl  who 
did  not  look  the  seventeen  years  she  claimed,  stepped 
to  the  gate.  The  officer  unlocked  the  gate  and  May 


26  THE  WORK-A-DAY  GIRL 

passed,  trembling,  through,  hiding  her  face  with  her 
hands  as  she  went.  And  after  an  interval  of  dazed 
unseeingness,  she  found  herself  looking  into  a  not  at 
all  unkindly  face  three  feet  away  from  her  across  a 
broad  desk.  All  around  were  other  men,  some  in  po- 
lice uniforms,  others  in  citizens'  clothes;  but  these  May 
felt  rather  than  saw,  at  first. 

Her  notion  of  a  court  had  been  of  something  in- 
quisitorial. Instead,  she  found  herself  face  to  face 
with  a  man  who  talked  to  her  with  much  kindliness. 

"  How  did  you  come  to  do  such  a  thing,  May?  "  he 
was  asking.  She  had  admitted  the  charge  against 
her. 

"  It  was  like  this,"  she  said.  "  My  pa's  been  sick 
in  the  hospital  since  las'  winter,  an'  he  ain't  never 
goin'  t'  git  no  better,  fer  it's  the  consumption  he  has. 
An'  all  we  had  t'  live  on — my  ma  an'  us  five  kids  an' 
my  ma's  mother  that  lives  with  us — was  what  my 
oldes'  brother  could  earn  out  o'  school  hours,  runnin' 
errands  an'  sellin'  papers  an'  that-like,  an'  what  I  got. 
I  had  a  job  in  a  millinery  place  on  Sixt'  Avenoo.  I 
ust  t'  do  kind  o'  easy  things  in  the  workroom,  like 
puttin'  in  the  linin's,  an'  t'  deliver  the  hats,  some- 
times, an'  put  away  stock.  An'  I  los'  my  job  fer — fer 
foolin'  around  some,  when  I  was  sent  out  on  errands. 
I  ust  t'  like  t'  hear  the  songs  an'  ragtime  on  the  pianos 
where  they  sell  music  in  the  department  stores,  an' 
sometimes  I'd  look  a  little  in  a  penny  arcade.  An'  so 
I  got  fired.  An'  I  couldn't  bear  t'  tell  my  ma.  I  tried 


AT  THE  NIGHT  COURT  27 

every  way  I  could  t'  git  another  job,  but  I  couldn't. 
An'  a  girl  that  spoke  t'  me  when  I  was  sittin'  in  Union 
Square  lookin'  at  the  Help  Wanteds  in  a  paper  that 
a  woman  left  on  a  bench,  she  says  to  me  that  she  knew 
how  I  could  earn  easy  money — an' — I  went  with  her 
an'  she  showed  me.  An'  after  that,  I'd  go  out  every 
mornin'  just  like  I  was  goin'  t'  work,  an'  go  t'  one  of 
the  parks  or  some  place  like  that,  an'  do  jus'  like  she 
told  me;  an'  I'd  git  something.  An'  in  the  afternoons, 
maybe  I'd  go  to  the  stores  or  to  a  nickel  show;  an'  at 
six  I'd  go  home  like  I  was  comiri'  from  work;  an' 
Sat'day  night  I'd  give  my  ma  the  money." 
"  And  she  never  knew?  " 

"  No;  oh,  no!    She'd  'a'  died  if  she'd  ever  knew! " 

"  Then  you  knew  you  were  doing  wrong,  May  ?  " 

"  Sure ! — I  mean,  yes,  your  Honour.    But  I  thought 

I  had  to.     I  didn't  see  no  other  way;  an'  I  didn't 

know  you  could  git  arrested  for  it." 

"  Your  kind  friend,  the  girl,  didn't  tell  you  that?" 
"  No,  sir;  I  don't  think  she  knew  it,  either." 
"  Well,    you   know   now,    don't   you,   that   you've 
broken  the  laws  of  the  State  of  New  York?  " 
:<  Yes,  your  Honour." 

"  And  you  know  that  your  poor  father  would  die  of 
shame,  and  your  mother's  heart  would  break,  if  they 
knew  where  you  are  now?  " 
"  Yes,  your  Honour." 

"  Well,  May,  I  believe  you're  going  to  be  a  better 
girl  after  this,  and  I'm  going  to  give  you  a  chance. 


28  THE  WORK-A-DAY  GIRL 

I'm  going  to  see  if  the  probation  officer  won't  take 
you  on  trial.  Miss  Smith,  please ! " 

Out  of  the  big  group  of  persons  behind  May — 
bailiffs  and  reporters  and  others  privileged  to  come 
within  the  rail  that  separates  the  judge's  bench  and 
prisoners'  dock  from  the  spectators'  part  of  the  court- 
room— stepped  a  tall,  fine-looking  woman  of  less  than 
middle  age,  with  firmness  and  gentleness  in  every  line 
of  her  commanding  figure  and  of  her  comely  counte- 
nance. She  was  Miss  Alice  Smith,  one  of  the  oldest 
in  point  of  service  of  women  probation  officers,  and  one 
of  the  most  devoted  and  most  efficient  women  in  that 
work  anywhere. 

"  Come  with  me,  May,"  she  said;  and  led  the  way 
through  a  gate  opposite  to  that  through  which  May 
had  come  from  the  pen,  and  into  a  big,  quiet  room 
where  a  police  sergeant  off  duty  dozed  behind  a  high 
office  desk.  At  the  corner  of  a  long  table  was  a  chair 
in  which,  following  Miss  Smith's  motion,  May  sat 
down.  The  probation  officer  drew  another  chair  close 
beside  her;  for  fifteen  minutes  she  questioned  May 
and  talked  to  her  as  a  wise  mother  might  have  done. 
The  tender,  understanding  heart  in  her  was  full  of 
sympathy  for  the  girl's  pathetic  situation,  of  appre- 
ciation of  the  pure  human  nature  in  May's  love  of 
ragtime  and  penny  arcades;  but  she  was  careful  not 
to  let  May  feel  that  sympathy  too  much.  God  knew 
it  was  not  in  her  heart  to  blame  the  child !  But  God 
knew,  too,  how  bad  for  the  child  it  would  be  if  the 


AT  THE  NIGHT  COURT  29 

enormity  of  her  offence  were  not  deeply  impressed 
upon  her  then  and  there. 

"  Well,  May,"  she  said,  "  I'm  going  to  accept  you 
on  probation.  Monday  morning  I  shall  set  to  work 
to  get  you  a  job.  And  I'll  go  to  see  your  mother. 
No !  don't  look  like  that ;  I  sha'n't  tell  her  you've  been 
in  trouble — not  unless  you  go  back  to  this  horrible 
business  again.  And  if  you  do,  you  know  you  can 
be  rearrested  and  brought  in  here  and  sentenced  to 
the  Island  or  to  a  reformatory  for  erring  girls.  I'll 
just  tell  your  mother,  Monday,  that  I'm  a  friend  of 
yours  and  have  heard  that  your  father  is  ill.  I'll  see 
if  there  isn't  something  that  can  be  done  to  save  your 
father's  life  or  to  get  work  for  your  mother  to  do  at 
home — anything  to  help  you  all  get  along.  And 
you're  to  come  to  see  me  once  a  week  for  six  months, 
and  tell  me  how  you  are  getting  on  and  what  a 
good  girl  you're  trying  to  be.  Will  you  do  that?  " 

"  Yes,  ma'am — sure  I  will." 

"  Then  you  can  go.  And  if  I'm  not  mistaken, 
you'll  see  the  day  when  you'll  be  glad — as  I  am — that 
you  were  arrested  this  afternoon.  Your  being  brought 
here  has  given  me  a  chance  to  know  about  you  and 
to  help  you.  If  you  begin,  to-night,  to  be  a  good,  true 
girl,  working  hard  and  keeping  yourself  self-respect- 
ing, you  may  look  back  on  this  experience  as  one  of 
the  best  that  ever  happened  to  you.  I  don't  want  you 
to  go  from  here  feeling  that  the  Law  has  disgraced  you 
— but  that  it  has  saved  you.  You  did  what  you  could 


30  THE  WORK-A-DAY  GIRL 

to  disgrace  yourself;  the  Law  has  stepped  in  to  save 
you.  Good-night,  May." 

The  woman  accused  of  shoplifting  had,  meanwhile, 
been  before  the  magistrate.  She  had  never  been  ar- 
rested before  and  was  evidently  a  decent  woman — 
probably  one  of  the  many  who  are  kept  without  pocket 
money  by  mean  husbands — who  had  found  the  tempta- 
tion of  some  specially  coveted  bit  of  finery  too  strong 
for  her  resistance.  Being  truthful,  she  had  given  her 
own  name  when  arrested;  but  it  was  noticed  that  she 
had  not  sent  for  her  husband.  When  she  was  dis- 
missed with  a  kindly  warning — the  stolen  trinket  had 
been  given  up  the  moment  she  was  apprehended — she 
thanked  the  judge  and  then  broke  into  an  impassioned 
plea  for  secrecy.  The  judge  looked  over  the  top  of 
his  spectacles  at  the  young  men  from  the  newspapers ; 
she  followed  the  direction  of  his  glance,  interpreted 
it,  and  turned  to  them.  Her  pleading  was  the  most 
dramatic  episode  the  old  court  had  witnessed  in  some 
time.  She  never  knew  what  it  cost  those  boys  to 
promise  her  what  she  asked;  she  was  the  best  "  story  " 
the  court  had  offered  in  many  nights.  But  she  won 
them,  and  they  were  heroically  true  to  their  word. 
That  is,  they  wrote  the  story,  but  they  scrupulously 
guarded  every  clue  to  her  identity — even  the  boys  of 
the  "  Yellow  Press,"  who  were  taking  their  lives — or 
at  least  their  jobs — in  their  hands  by  so  doing. 

The  expensively  dressed  and  defiant  girl,  and  the 
Jewess  who  was  unconcerned,  were  fined  when  their 


AT  THE  NIGHT  COURT  3.1 

respective  cases  were  called.  The  expensively  dressed 
girl  paid  her  fine  from  a  well-filled  purse  and  departed, 
gathering  up  her  skirts.  Not  want,  but  sheer  deviltry 
had  brought  her  there.  The  Jewess  had  only  part  of 
the  amount  of  her  fine,  so  she  was  taken  to  the  prison 
to  "  sit  out "  a  few  hours  of  confinement  in  lieu  of 
the  remainder. 

The  coloured  girl  was  sentenced  to  the  Island. 
"  Somebody  gotter  go  ter  the  Islan',"  she  declared 
with  good-nature  apparently  unshaken,  as  she  was 
being  conducted  to  a  cell  upstairs,  "  othahwise  you-all 
wouldn'  be  able  ter  keep  yo'  jobs.  Somebody  that 
cain't  pay  gotter  make  it  look  like  you-all  was  powah- 
ful  busy;  an'/'  breaking  into  a  comic-opera  lilt,  "it 
might  as  well  be  me." 

At  the  top  of  the  winding  iron  stairs  she  was  re- 
ceived by  an  ample  matron,  wholesome-looking  in  her 
immaculate  uniform  of  blue  and  white  stripes,  white 
apron,  and  neat  white  collar,  and  decidedly  kindlier  in 
manner  than  the  average  trained  nurse. 

"  Hello,  Mamie,"  she  said  to  the  coloured  girl,  "  you 
up  again  ?  " 

Mamie  grinned.  "  Yas'm,"  she  assented,  submit- 
ting to  being  searched  for  "  dope  "  and  razors  as  if  it 
were  the  most  ordinary  of  amenities;  "when  dey 
cain't  ketch  nobody  else,  an'  it  look  bad  fer  'em,  dey 
always  comes  aroun'  an'  ketches  me." 

Thereupon,  with  an  air  not  very  different  from  that 
of  a  hostess  showing  a  guest  to  her  room,  the  matron 


3£  THE  WORK-A-DAY  GIRL 

conducted  Mamie  to  a  cell  which  was  so  many,  many 
degrees  cleaner  and  better  aired  and  more  comfortable 
than  Mamie's  room  on  Seventh  Avenue  that  she  might 
well  have  been  philosophic  about  making  it  her  abode 
till  Monday  morning,  when  she  would  go  to  the  Island. 

There  was  a  comfortable,  clean  cot  bed  in  the  cell, 
which  Mamie  could  hook  up  against  the  wall  if  she 
wanted  more  space  to  move  about  in;  and  there  were 
a  toilet,  and  a  basin  with  running  water,  and  an  elec- 
tric light.  Perhaps  the  only  discomfort,  from  Ma- 
mie's point  of  view,  was  the  cleanliness  of  it  all. 

But  there  was  trouble  ahead,  the  matron  knew, 
with  Mamie.  Before  the  night  was  over  the  effects  of 
the  cocaine  now  in  her  would  have  worn  off,  and  she 
would  be  clamouring  for  more.  And  doubtless  before 
Monday  morning  she  would  be  under  the  care  of  the 
jail  physician  and  receiving,  by  his  orders,  small  doses 
of  her  "  dope,"  sufficient  to  keep  her  from  going  mad, 
but  not  sufficient  to  keep  her  from  being  ugly. 

Presently  the  coloured  drunk  and  the  white  drunk 
were  brought  upstairs.  The  coloured  woman  was 
under  sentence  to  the  Island.  The  white  woman  was 
being  held  until  her  relatives  could  be  found;  she  was 
not  disorderly,  and  if  her  people  would  take  her  away 
and  keep  her  from  being  harmed  while  she  was  help- 
less, the  city  had  no  wish  to  assume  the  burden.  The 
probation  officer  would  take  her  on  parole  and  see 
what  could  be  done  to  help  the  unfortunate  creatare 
overcome  her  weakness  for  drink. 


AT  THE  NIGHT  COURT  33 

The  receiving  pen  filled  up  as  fast  as  it  was  cleared. 
Of  those  who  had  preceded  Florence  into  it,  all  were 
now  gone  but  the  wretched  violator  of  the  tenement 
house  act;  but  others,  of  like  sorts,  had  taken  their 
places. 

"  It's  a  gay  life — not !  "  the  woman  of  squalor  re- 
marked bitterly  to  Florence  as  her  turn  drew  near. 
"  I  got  a  sick  kid  at  home,  an'  when  things  got  t'  the 
worst,  I  done  the  one  thing  I  could  t'  get  a  little 
money." 

She  told  her  story  to  the  magistrate — her  common- 
place story  of  desertion,  struggle,  sickness,  no  work, 
despair,  and  final  recourse  to  "  the  oldest  profession 
in  the  world  " ;  and  he  remanded  her,  to  wait  until  a 
court  officer  investigated  her  case — or,  in  other  words, 
went  to  see  how  far  the  testimony  of  her  neighbours 
corroborated  her  story. 

Then  Florence  was  called.  When  the  magistrate 
heard  what  she  had  to  say  for  herself — which  wasn't 
much,  except  that  she  had  never  been  arrested  before 
— he  directed  that  she  be  sent  in  to  Miss  Smith,  to 
see  if  that  officer  would  receive  her  on  probation. 
Under  Miss  Smith's  kindly  questioning,  Florence 
talked  rather  freely.  She  was  twenty-one,  she  said, 
and  was  born  in  Georgetown,  Maryland.  Her  father 
died  when  she  was  young,  and  in  a  few  years  her 
mother  married  again.  Florence  was  the  only  child 
of  her  mother's  first  marriage.  She  didn't  like  her 
stepfather,  and  he  didn't  like  her.  When  his  own 


34  THE  WORK-A-DAY  GIRL 

children  came  "  he  was  worse  than  ever/7  Florence 
had  to  work  hard  at  home,  because  her  mother  was 
ailing  and  the  babies  came  close  together  and  were 
ailing,  too.  The  stepfather  was  a  skilled  mechanic 
who  made  good  wages;  but  he  was  "tight"  with  his 
money,  and  he  drank — Saturday  nights.  Florence 
used  to  steal  out  in  the  evenings,  sometimes,  to  have 
a  "little  fun,"  and  when  he  found  it  out  he  beat  her. 
Often  he  beat  her  for  other  things,  too.  And  finally 
she  ran  away  and  went  to  Baltimore,  where  she 
worked  as  a  domestic.  When  she  was  seventeen  and 
had  saved  a  little  money  and  got  herself  decently  clad, 
she  came  to  New  York,  "  where  wages  was  big,  I 
heard,  and  there  was  lots  to  see  when  you  wasn't 
workin'."  She  had  "  worked  in  families,"  first,  but 
that  "  wasn't  any  fun  " ;  so  she  got  a  job  as  waitress 
in  a  cheap  cafe.  There  was  "  more  goin'  on  "  in  the 
cafe,  more  to  see  and  hear,  and  it  was  nearer  to  the 
places  where  Florence  liked  to  spend  her  "  off  time." 
But  by  and  by  Fourteenth  Street  shop  windows,  the 
penny  arcade,  the  occasional  visit  to  a  five-cent  theatre, 
failed  to  satisfy  Florence.  Only  the  "  greenest  "  girls 
she  met  with  in  the  "  kuffay  "  were  interested  in  these 
cheap  delights;  the  others,  who  wore  the  largest  pom- 
padours and  the  swellest  suits  and  the  biggest  rhine- 
stone  horseshoes  and  the  most  beplumed  hats,  were 
far  beyond  "  them  jay  pleasures."  They  went  to 
"  real  theaytres,"  attended  dances  "  frequent,"  pat- 
ronized cafes  with  ladies'  entrances  and  perpetuated 


AT  THE  NIGHT  COURT  35 

palms  and  "  vodeville,"  and  bought  the  finery  neces- 
sary for  these  "  swell  times  "  on  Sixth  Avenue  above 
Fourteenth  Street!  There  was  only  one  way  Flor- 
ence could  share  in  these  delights — and  that  was  to 
do  as  the  other  girls  did.  As  some  measure  success 
in  life  by  the  number  of  dollars  they  can  save,  and 
some  women  measure  it  by  the  number  of  persons 
they  can  afford  to  snub,  so  Florence  measured  it  by 
the  amount  of  "  fun  you  have,"  and  it  was  her  dis- 
tressful limitation  that  she  knew  only  one  possible 
kind  of  fun.  Eventually,  she  had  given  up  the  prosaic 
business  of  "  waiting  "  and  undertaken  to  support  her- 
self solely  by  the  "  oldest  profession  in  the  world." 
But  something  must  have  been  wrong  with  her  busi- 
ness methods;  for  in  a  city  where  that  business  pros- 
pers, as  it  has  probably  never  before  prospered  under 
the  sun,  Florence  had  not  made  a  success  of  it.  And 
to-night,  with  her  funds  down  to  twenty-nine  cents, 
she  had  been  driven  to  the  street. 

"  Do  you  support  a  man,  Florence  ?  "  asked  Miss 
Smith. 

"  No,"  said  Florence — not  convincingly. 

"  And  you  want  to  do  right  ?  " 

«  Why— yes." 

"  If  I  let  you  go  to-night,  instead  of  having  you 
sent  up  to  the  Island,  and  if  I  get  work  for  you  and 
do  all  I  can  to  help  you,  will  you  try  to  keep  straight  ? 
Will  you  come  to  see  me  for  a  few  minutes  one  even- 
ing each  week  for  a  while?  " 


36  THE  WORK-A-DAY  GIRL 

Yes,  Florence  would;  but  she  was  not  enthusiastic 
about  it,  and  she  stipulated  that  the  work  must  not 
be  "  in  a  fam'ly."  It  must  be  where  the  possibilities 
of  "  fun  "  appealed  to  Florence ;  otherwise  she  would 
have  none  of  it. 

"  Florence,"  urged  Miss  Smith,  "  I  know  that  every 
young  girl  wants  to  have  a  good  time;  that  it's  part  of 
her  youth  to  crave  pretty  clothes  and  parties  and  beaus. 
I  don't  say  you  mustn't  try  to  have  a  pleasant  time, 
and  meet  young  men,  and  wear  little  '  pretties '  to 
make  them  find  you  attractive.  But  there  are  kinds  of 
fun  that  are  safe  and  wholesome;  and  the  kind  you 
have  been  having  is  neither,  I  suppose  you  know. 
Now,  I  shall  be  on  duty  here  till  long  after  mid- 
night, and  to-morrow  I  ought  to  rest  late  and  I 
want  to  go  to  church.  But  if  you  will  go  with 
me,  I'll  take  my  rest  time  and  go  over  to  Bellevue 
Hospital  with  you  and  get  a  special  permit  to 
take  you  through  the  wards  where  the  girls  who 
started  out  to  have  fun,  as  you  understand  fun,  are 
dying  horrible  deaths  and  going  into  Potter's  Field. 
I'd  like  to  take  you  a  short  walk  down  one  of  those 
wards — if  you  can  stand  the  indescribable  horror  of 
it — so  you  can  say  to  yourself :  '  If  I  go  on  as  I'm 
going,  here's  where  I  shall  be  in  two  years  or  three 
years,  or  possibly  five  years  at  the  outside.' ' 

"I  don't  think  I  could  go,"  said  Florence;  "I 
always  hate  to  see  sick  people." 

"  Florence ! "     Miss    Smith's    tone    suddenly    be- 


AT  THE  NIGHT  COURT  37 

came  intense,  searching.  "  You  haven't  any  real  idea 
of  quitting  this  life — have  you?" 

Florence  avoided  Miss  Smith's  eyes.  "  Well " 

she  began,  and  hesitated. 

"  I  know !  If  you  can  have  all  the  feathers  and  fun 
you  want,  without  being  vicious,  you'd  probably  a 
little  bit  liefer  have  it  that  way.  But  the  feathers  and 
the  fun  you  will  have,  and  if  you  must  pay  a  horrible 
price  for  them,  you'll  pay  it.  Isn't  that  it  ?  " 

Florence  was  folding  and  refolding  her  handker- 
chief, minutely  fluting  the  hem  of  it,  and  apparently 
deeply  engrossed  therein. 

"Isn't  that  it?"  Miss  Smith  repeated. 

"  Well "  she  began  again. 

Miss  Smith  wanted  to  sigh,  but  she  forbore. 
Florence  was  one  of  such  a  large,  such  a  terribly  large 
class;  and  such  a  hopeless  class,  too,  as  experience 
had  proved.  Nevertheless  she  accepted  Florence  on 
probation;  she  could  not  bear  to  let  her  go  to  the 
Island  without  having  tried  to  do  for  her  what  she 
could. 

To  blame  Florence  is  as  impossible  as  to  help  her. 
She  is  young;  she  is  nice-looking;  she  is  driven  by 
every  instinct  of  that  brute  part  of  her  which  develops 
itself  and  asks  for  no  schooling,  toward  the  one  and 
only  thing  that  Nature  demands  of  her.  She  has  had 
absolutely  no  education  in  the  control  of  natural  tend- 
encies by  spiritual  strength.  She  wants  feathers  and 
fun;  she  walks  on  Broadway  and  sees  women  having 


38  THE  WORK-A-DAY  GIRL 

both;  girls  she  knows  tell  her  there  is  only  one  way 
for  her  kind  to  share  in  life's  gaieties.  What  sheer 
folly  to  tell  Florence  she  must  not  want  to  be  gay! 
What  smug  hypocrisy,  too !  And  how  begin,  now,  to 
teach  Florence  ways  of  happiness  that  do  not  follow 
the  paths  of  sin! 

A  victim  of  resourcelessness  is  Florence.  She 
craves  pleasures;  she  is  incapable  of  creating  pleasures 
for  herself;  and  the  few  kinds  of  pleasure  she  is  able 
to  enjoy  are  kinds  that  cost  too  dear  for  her  slender 
purse — the  purse  of  the  unskilled  working  girl — and 
that  easily,  when  come  by  as  she  must  come  by  them, 
lead  to  the  depths.  Nature  makes  Florence  want 
feathers;  and  that  soul  in  Florence  which  ought,  if 
she  knew  she  had  one,  to  hold  Nature  in  sufficient 
check  to  keep  it  from  destroying  her  (and  none  of 
Nature's  forces  is  so  beneficent  that  it  will  not  also 
destroy  if  it  is  not  held  in  check),  that  soul  is  sleep- 
ing. Some  believe  there  is  a  clarion  call  that  can 
bring  it  at  once  into  dominant  activity;  but,  even  of 
these,  not  many  believe  that  the  call  can  be  made  loud 
enough  to  wake  Florence's  soul  at  this  stage  in  her 
piteous  career.  When  she  is  "  down  and  out,"  she 
may  be  made  to  hear;  but  while  she  is  well,  and  the 
rhinestones  glitter  in  the  windows  on  Broadway,  the 
ragtime  floats  out  from  behind  the  perpetuated  palms 
of  cabaret  cafes,  and  fun  and  feathers  are  to  be  had 
for  a  price,  Florence  is  not  a  hopeful  subject  for 
reclaim. 


AT  THE  NIGHT  COURT  39 

More  love  in  her  home  might  have  helped  Florence ; 
but  it  is  true,  too,  that  girls  have  been  known  to  run 
away  from  love-lit  homes,  lured  by  the  burning  of 
those  million  lights  that  flood  the  Great  White  Way. 
More  education  might  have  helped  her;  but  it  is  also 
true  that  girls  from  the  best  colleges  in  the  land  have 
sometimes  joined  the  desperate  throng  swirling 
toward  Potter's  Field. 

One  thing  only  seems  certain  to  most  of  those  who 
work  with  and  for  Florence  and  her  like;  and  that  is, 
that  more  education  of  one  particular  sort  would  have 
helped — more  instruction  in  the  penalties  of  sin.  But 
that  is,  after  all,  the  restraint  of  fear — which  was  the 
only  spiritual  control  the  world  had  until  Love  be- 
came incarnate  and  brought  men  to  seek  the  better  way 
because  it  is  the  happier.  Merely  to  scare  Florence  so 
that  she  will  forego  the  fun  and  feathers  because  of 
the  hideous  disease  and  the  nameless  grave  that  await 
her,  is  not  to  make  Florence  over  into  a  very  valuable 
member  of  society. 

There  are  tens  of  thousands  of  women  in  New 
York — and  everywhere  else — who  are  just  like  Flor- 
ence in  resourcelessness,  in  love  of  feathers  and  of 
fun;  but,  by  virtue  of  kindly  circumstance,  they  have 
not  been  driven,  as  she  has,  to  pay  the  most  hideous 
price  for  their  amusement.  Some  man,  their  rela- 
tions with  whom  have  the  sanction  of  society,  pays  for 
their  bridge  "and  their  finery  and  their  motor  cars  and 
their  pink  teas.  Only  God  knows  which  of  these 


40  THE  WORK-A-DAY  GIRL 

women,  if  the  sanctioned  relationship  were  to  fail, 
to  become  impossible  of  renewal,  would  forego  the 
feathers,  and  which  would  forego  the  sanction.  In  a 
world  so  full  of  possible  happiness,  they  have  never 
learned  how  to  enjoy  anything  but  feathers.  There's 
the  situation !  Human  nature  will  seek  delight !  The 
one  possible  safety  for  it  is  when  it  can  be  taught  to 
find  its  delight  in  things  that  uplift  and  satisfy,  and 
not  to  seek  it  in  things  that  deprave  and  create  dissat- 
isfaction. 

Meanwhile,  what  little  can  be  done  for  Florence 
and  her  kind  the  woman  probation  officers  are  seeking 
to  do.  And  for  the  others — like  May  Mooney,  for 
instance,  and  for  the  woman  who  was  dead  drunk,  and 
even  for  the  emaciated  violator  of  the  tenement  house 
act — they  are  doing  a  very  great  deal.  Not  only  do 
hundreds  of  girls  owe  an  infinitely  bettered  life  to  the 
redirection  they  have  had  from  some  fine  probation 
officer  to  whom  they  were  paroled  after  their  arrest, 
but  in  many,  many  cases  the  regeneration  of  whole 
families  has  followed  on  the  interest  awakened  in  them 
by  the  temporary  misfortune  of  one  of  their  members. 
It  is  not  easy  for  a  girl  to  keep  good  if  her  father  is 
out  of  work  and  all  her  wages  are  swallowed  up  by 
the  hungry  necessities  of  a  big  family;  so,  often  the 
probation  officer  begins  her  fight  for  the  girl's  future 
by  getting  work  for  the  father.  It  is  not  easy  for  a 
girl  to  grow  into  fine  young  womanhood  if  her  mother 
"  tipples  "  and,  as  most  tipplers  do,  keeps  a  slatternly 


AT  THE  NIGHT  COURT  41 

home  with  the  meals  never  on  time;  so,  often  the  pro- 
bation officer  bends  all  her  energies  to  cure  the  mother 
of  her  wretched  vice.  Through  the  interest  of  this 
fine,  strong,  thoroughly-informed  woman  into  whose 
charge  a  member  of  the  household  has  been  put,  sick 
children  (and  elders)  are  sent  to  the  hospitals  and 
ailing  ones  to  the  country  for  "  fresh  air  "  vacations ; 
wayward  lads  are  set  to  learning,  under  discipline  of 
school  or  shop,  a  good  trade;  and  new  vistas  of  useful- 
ness and  happiness  are  opened  up  to  every  one.  So 
far  from  being  a  calamity,  it  is — as  it  should  be — fre- 
quently a  great  mercy  that  offenders  young  in  years 
and  young  in  wrongdoing  are  brought  to  the  bar  of 
justice  and  turned  over  to  a  probation  officer.  The 
work  is  not  yet  being  adequately  done.  The  appro- 
priation for  it  is  everywhere  too  small,  and  each  officer 
has  far  too  much  to  do  to  allow  of  any  of  it  being 
done  as  thoroughly  as  it  should  be  done.  But  the  idea 
is  unquestionably  right  and  deserves  every  encourage- 
ment. 

The  needs  of  the  work  are  many.  One  of  the  chief 
of  them  is  a  Municipal  Detention  House  for  Women, 
where  offenders  against  the  law  can  be  held  pending  a 
thorough  investigation  of  their  case.  This  house 
should  be  graded,  so  that  girls  arrested  for  a  first 
offence  need  never  come  in  contact  with  women  of 
long-standing  depravity,  but  now  wishing  to  reform. 
The  dangers  of  contamination  are  not  only  mental  and 
moral,  but  physical,  and  the  sharpest  segregation  is 


42  THE  WORK-A-DAY  GIRL 

the  only  justice.  This  should  be  followed  in  all  re- 
ceiving pens,  also;  vile  and  obscene  women  should  not 
sit,  even  for  an  hour,  side  by  side  with  girls  like  May 
Mooney. 

In  a  proper  detention  home  there  would  be  some 
alternative  for  Florence  besides  sending  her  to  the 
Island  or  turning  her  immediately  loose  into  the 
streets.  There  would  be  a  place  to  keep  girls  who 
want  to  abandon  the  evil  life  and  who  are  afraid — on 
account  of  the  vengeful  ire  of  the  wretch  they  have 
been  supporting;  a  place  where  they  might  safely  stay 
until  work  could  be  found  for  them  and  they  could  be 
spirited  away.  Many  otherwise  decent  women  drink; 
they  are  not  offenders  against  the  law,  but  their  help- 
lessness while  intoxicated  obliges  the  law  to  take  care 
of  them,  if  their  relatives  cannot  immediately  be 
found;  it  is  a  pity  to  lock  these  women  in  cells  with 
felons  and  degraded  wretches.  A  Municipal  Deten- 
tion Home  would  take  care  of  them.  Another  pur- 
pose it  would  serve  would  be  the  safe-keeping  of  wit- 
nesses who  are  now  sometimes  locked  in  cells  like 
criminals. 

Miss  Maud  Miner,  once  a  probation  officer,  has 
opened  a  temporary  home  for  girls  which  she  calls 
Waverley  House;  it  is  at  38  West  Tenth  Street,  only 
a  few  doors  from  the  Jefferson  Market  Court.  Miss 
Miner,  aided  by  her  sister  Stella,  receives  into  this 
home,  which  is  supported  by  voluntary  contributions, 
girls  from  the  night  or  day  courts  of  New  York.  She 


AT  THE  NIGHT  COURT  43 

has  accommodations  for  twenty-five  girls  and  keeps 
them  until  a  close  study  of  their  case  shows  what  kind 
of  care  or  work  they  need.  Medical  help  for  the 
sick  is  secured,  work  for  the  workless,  clothing  for 
the  unclothed.  The  girls  who  remain  any  length  of 
time  are  taught  to  cook  and  sew,  and  every  effort  is 
made  to  keep  them  happy. 

The  work  of  Waverley  House  has  extended  far  be- 
yond its  original  purpose  of  a  temporary  home  for 
girls  from  the  courts,  and  has  now  many  protective 
features.  A  big  work  is  being  done  in  prosecuting 
traffickers  in  girls,  in  teaching  girls  to  avoid  danger, 
and  in  helping  parents  to  safeguard  unruly  daughters; 
also  in  returning  runaway  girls  to  their  homes.  But 
the  Municipal  Detention  Home  is  still  urgently  needed, 
and  no  agency  is  more  earnestly  working  for  it  than 
Waverley  House,  which  cannot  possibly  enlarge  its 
scope  to  meet  the  detention  needs  of  the  whole  great 
city  of  Manhattan. 

Another  need  of  the  probation  work  is  a  fund  for 
the  immediate  relief  of  cases  where  the  straits  are 
so  sore  that  to  wait  upon  the  action  of  any  of  the 
various  charities  may  mean  all  the  difference  between 
a  new  start  and  abandonment  to  despair.  Until  such 
a  fund  is  raised,  any  one  who  mistrusts  his  or  her 
own  ability  to  give  money  without  encouraging  the 
unworthy,  cannot  do  better  than  to  let  one  of  these 
devoted  probation  women  know  that  in  one  of  the 
emergencies  which  are  always  confronting  her,  she 


44  THE  WORK-A-DAY  GIRL 

can  spend  a  dollar  for  food  or  three  dollars  for  a 
girl's  arrears  of  rent,  or  five  dollars  for  a  warm 
coat,  and  be  reimbursed  next  day.  Also,  any  woman 
who  has  clothes  to  give  away  would  find  on  any  pro- 
bation officer's  list  persons  in  need  of  just  what  she 
has  to  give;  and  a  bit  of  fairly  suitable  finery  thus 
bestowed  may  save  a  girl  from  selling  her  soul  for  a 
gewgaw.  Another  thing  that  would  help  would  be 
the  cooperation  of  a  greater  number  of  societies  and 
individuals  interested  in  giving  work  and  friendly  en- 
couragement to  girls  taken  on  probation.  The  Jewish 
women  are  of  all  classes  the  best  to  their  own.  Their 
organizations  are  splendidly  active  in  getting  places 
for  Jewish  girls  on  probation,  in  visiting  them  in  their 
homes,  and  attending  to  the  needs  of  the  family. 
More  recently,  another  organization  of  women  in  New 
York  has  essayed  to  do  the  same  for  English  and 
Canadian  girls  who  come  under  the  law.  There  ought 
to  be  much  more  assistance  of  the  same  sort,  so  as 
greatly  to  increase  the  number  of  quarters  to  which 
a  probation  officer  can  look  for  work  and  other  assist- 
ance for  girls  she  receives  on  probation.  And  the 
greatest  need  of  all  is  a  much-extended  Big  Sister 
League,  the  members  of  which  shall  take  girls  of  the 
probation  court  under  their  personal,  sisterly  care. 
The  work  of  the  Big  Brother  League  throughout 
the  country  has  been  magnificent  and  has  done  quite 
as  much  for  the  sturdy  business  and  professional  men 
who  have  assumed  the  brotherly  care  of  delinquent 


AT  THE  NIGHT  COURT  45 

boys  as  for  the  boys  themselves.  The  work  of  fine 
organizations  is  necessary  and  valuable,  but  the  really 
vital  results  are  going  to  come  in  the  close  personal 
contact,  the  month-in  and  month-out  association  of 
sweet,  sheltered  women  with  girls  who  have  felt  the 
"  world's  rough  hand."  When  those  women  come  to 
realize,  through  this  immediate  contact,  the  girls' 
needs,  those  needs  will  be  supplied.  There  will  be 
more  trade  schools  for  girls,  where  they  can  be  taught 
proficiency  in  work  that  will  bring  them  a  living  wage. 
There  will  be  Industrial  Homes  for  young  girls. 
There  will  be  an  enormous  increase  in  the  harmless 
pleasures  open  to  young  girls  of  poor  parents  and  to 
those  who  are  away  from  home,  strangers  in  a  big 
city.  There  will  be  girls'  clubs  for  dancing  and 
dramatics.  There  will  be  abundant  places  for  the 
girls  to  entertain  their  young  men  friends.  And 
there  will  be  some  action  taken  toward  the  instruction 
of  girls  in  the  wiles  of  the  seducer.  Thousands  of 
girls  who  never  meant  harm  are  yearly  led  astray 
through  their  ignorance  of  the  snares  the  destroyer 
uses.  The  Big  Sisters  must  see  to  this. 

It  is  a  great  work.  Not  the  punishment  but  the 
prevention  of  crime  is  the  endeavour  of  the  modern 
reformers.  And  few  steps  taken  toward  that  ideal  of 
prevention  are  more  worthy  of  support  from  the 
merciful,  the  law-loving,  than  the  work  of  the  proba- 
tion women. 


II 

THE  EFFORT  TO  SAVE  GIRLS 

KATIE  was  sixteen.  The  time  had  come  for 
her  to  go  to  work.  For  sixteen  years  Katie's 
father  had  supported  her.  He  was  a  pretty 
good  sort  of  father,  but  his  interest  in  his  children 
was  not  sentimental  merely.  Beginning  as  soon  as 
he  could  earn  enough  for  two,  he  had  married. 
Through  all  the  years  of  his  later  youth  and  early 
prime  he  had  toiled  hard  and  given  his  children  a 
decent  living.  He  had  been  investing,  as  it  were,  in 
a  family — as  some  men  invest  in  twenty-year  paid-up 
life  insurance — and  he  was  now  approaching  the  time 
when  he  could  hope  to  realize  on  his  investment. 
Katie  was  the  first  "  bond  "  to  become  due. 

There  was  nothing  at  home  that  Katie  could  do  to 
reduce  outlay  or  produce  income  by  her  labour,  so 
Katie  must  go  out  into  the  market  where  labour  is 
bought.  And  Katie  was  eager  to  go.  For  Katie 
knew  a  thing  or  two !  She  knew  how  much  fun  she'd 
have,  staying  around  home  and  helping  her  ma.  She 
knew  how  much  chance  she'd  have  of  meeting  a  fel- 
low. She  knew  how  much  finery  she  could  buy,  how 
much  spending  money  she  could  have. 

Some  of  the  girls  in  Katie's  class  at  school  were 

46 


THE  EFFORT  TO  SAVE  GIRLS  47 

going  to  a  business  college  to  learn  stenography  and 
typewriting.  But  Katie  couldn't  afford  either  time 
or  money  for  more  schooling.  She  must  get  into  the 
market-place  with  what  she  had.  But  here  again 
Katie  was  quite  content.  She  had  thought  it  all  over, 
and  decided  that  a  big  store  offered  the  best  chance 
of  fun.  If  you're  a  stenographer,  you  see  only  the 
few  persons  who  frequent  one  office.  If  you're  a 
factory  girl,  you  work  all  day  and  every  day  among 
the  same  people.  But  if  you're  a  clerk  in  a  depart- 
ment store,  you  get  to  see  all  the  styles ;  you're  Johnny- 
on-the-spot  when  the  openings  come  off;  there  are 
heaps  of  things  to  do  at  noon  hour;  and  among  so 
many  thousands  of  customers  passing  through  the 
aisles,  there's  no  telling  what  moment  a  swell  fellow 
will  notice  you  and,  having  noticed,  fall  a  victim  to 
your  charms. 

Katie  got  the  coveted  job.  The  other  girls  behind 
the  counter  to  which  she  was  assigned  were  very 
"  swell "  and  they  made  Katie  feel  "  as  green  as 
grass."  But  she  tried  to  win  their  favour  by  the 
sincere  flattery  of  imitation.  They  were  delighted 
to  show  off  before  Katie,  so  they  allowed  her  to  over- 
hear their  talk  of  dances  and  theatres,  of  suppers  in 
restaurants  where  orchestras  play;  to  see  their  silver 
mesh  purses  and  their  willow  plumes.  These  girls 
"  must  earn  awful  much."  Katie  earned  four-fifty 
a  week.  She  had  to  give  her  pay  envelope  to  her 
father.  Out  of  it  he  returned  her  a  dollar.  This  was 


48  THE  WORK-A-DAY  GIRL 

all  she  had  for  her  every  expense  except  her  board. 

Things  were  stirring  in  Katie  that  she  did  not  un- 
derstand. Her  little  head  was  whirling  with  romance. 
Her  young  body  was  waking  to  Life.  It  was  Spring- 
time for  Katie.  Nature,  that  designed  her  to  mate 
and  to  perpetuate  her  kind,  was  far  from  caring  how 
she  did  it.  She  filled  Katie's  mind  with  dreams  about 
a  Prince;  she  made  Katie  scan  every  youth  she  met, 
questioning  if  this  be  not  he;  and  she  tampered — for 
her  own  purposes — with  Katie's  vision,  so  that  Katie 
saw  things  not  at  all  as  they  were,  but  as  she  was 
wistful  to  believe  them. 

One  day  a  young  man  did  come  along  who  noticed 
Katie.  He  might  not  meet  your  ideas  of  a  Prince, 
nor  mine;  but  he  met  Katie's.  He  "made  a  date" 
with  her  to  see  her  after  the  store  closed;  he  was  on 
the  curbstone  waiting  for  her  when  she  came  out  the 
employes'  door.  It  was  the  first  time  that  any  one 
had  waited  for  Katie,  and  she  was  very  proud.  She 
scanned  the  scores  of  men  and  youths  who  were 
waiting  for  girls  and  found  hers.  He  "  walked  a 
ways  "  with  her  and  asked  her  if  he  couldn't  take 
her  out  sometime.  Of  course  he  could!  Katie 
couldn't  ask  him  to  her  home.  There  was  no  place 
there  to  entertain  a  fellow.  The  family  had  four 
rooms,  and  one  of  them  was  nominally  a  parlour,  but 
it  had  divers  other  uses  also  and  it  was  never  avail- 
able for  the  exclusive  use  of  one  member  of  the  fam- 
ily. And  anyway,  Katie  had  misgivings  as  to  the  way 


THE  EFFORT  TO  SAVE  GIRLS  49 

her  pa  might  receive  a  fellow.  So  she  said  nothing 
at  home  about  the  Prince. 

When  she  went  out,  after  supper,  evenings,  no  one 
questioned  her  particularly  as  to  her  destination. 
Everybody  went  out,  if  the  evening  were  at  all  pleas- 
ant— even  Katie's  ma.  There  was  always  something 
in  the  streets  to  divert  a  person ;  and  there  was  never 
anything  in  the  house. 

The  first  evening  Katie  spent  with  her  new 
"  friend/'  he  was  a  model  of  propriety.  If  Katie  had 
ever  heard  any  tales  of  "  fresh  guys  "  with  whom  it 
is  not  wise  for  girls  to  go,  she  had  every  reason  to 
assure  herself  that  she  knew  better  than  to  "  pick  up 
with  anythin'  like  that."  This  fellow  was  a  swell,  all 
right.  His  father  was  rich;  his  mother  was  a  society 
woman.  They  wanted  him  to  marry  "  one  o'  these 
here  society  girls.  Nothin'  to  'em!  I  never  liked 
'em.  But  the  minute  I  seen  you,  it  was  all  off  with 
them  fer  keeps.  It  was  love  from  the  word  '  Go/ 
with  you,  Kid !  " 

Katie's  heart  nearly  burst  with  gratification.  How 
could  he  pick  her  out  from  all  the  world  to  love  ?  She 
was  so  shabby  and  "  green  " !  It  was  like  the  story- 
books. It  was  real  romance.  And  there  were  per- 
sons— grown  persons,  old  and  sour  and  unbelieving — 
who  said  such  things  never  happen  in  real  life.  Katie 
knew  better. 

The  second  or  third  evening  Katie  and  her  Prince 
spent  together  he  suggested  going  to  a  hotel.  Katie 


50  THE  WORK-A-DAY  GIRL 

did  not  understand.  He  explained.  She  was  fright- 
ened, shocked,  inexpressibly  hurt.  She  had  heard  of 
such  doings,  but  she  associated  them  solely  with 
"  fresh  guys "  and  not  with  heroes  of  romance. 
And  in  high  dudgeon  because  she  "  misunderstood  " 
him,  he  left  her — to  go  home  alone. 

Katie  cried  all  night,  and  for  several  nights;  and 
pined  and  watched  all  day,  hoping  he  would  come 
back  to  her.  In  the  story-books,  the  hero  always 
came  back  to  the  girl  who  had  been  good  and  true, 
and  besought  her  to  forgive  him.  But  this  hero 
didn't  come.  Katie's  days  became  flat,  stale,  and  un- 
profitable again.  Then  another  Prince  appeared. 

But  he,  too,  was  like  the  first.  Katie's  melancholy 
had  now  become  so  deep  that  she  could  not  conceal  it. 
Myrtle  asked  her:  "What's  ailin'  yeh,  Kiddo?" 
And  Katie,  in  a  burst  of  woe,  confided  her  bitterness 
to  Myrtle.  Myrtle  was  sympathetic,  but  amused. 
"  Why,  yeh  poor  kid !  "  she  cried.  "  Ain't  yeh  got 
a  bit  o'  sense  ?  Don't  yeh  know  there  ain't  no  feller 
goin'  t'  spend  coin  on  yeh  f er  nothin'  ?  Yeh  gotta  be 
a  good  Indian,  Kid — we  all  gotta !  " 

So !  That  was  it  ?  Assured  that  "  everybody  "  did 
it,  Katie  concluded  it  was  useless  for  her  to  hope  for 
anything  different.  The  next  time  a  fellow  took  her 
out  and  gave  her  a  swell  time,  then  asked  her  to  go 
to  a  hotel,  she  went. 

Katie  is  typical — not  of  department  store  girls  as 
a  class,  but  of  a  class  of  girls,  some  of  whom  work 


THE  EFFORT  TO  SAVE  GIRLS  51 

in  department  stores  and  some  of  whom  are  trained 
nurses;  some  of  whom  sing  in  choruses  and  some  of 
whom  sing  in  church  choirs;  some  of  whom  are 
stenographers  and  some  of  whom  are  "  stars." 
Wherever  a  girl's  desire  for  ease,  luxury,  and  gay 
times  exceeds  her  ability  to  provide  these  for  herself, 
and  her  preference  for  virtue  is  exceeded  by  her  de- 
sire for  these  other  things,  we  find  the  Katies — and 
the  distinctions  are  without  a  difference,  whether  they 
call  themselves  Katie  or  Kathryn  or  Kathleen. 

Social  science  calls  this  thing  "  occasional  prostitu- 
tion," to  distinguish  it  from  the  two  other  main  classes 
of  prostitution — clandestine  and  professional.  The 
clandestine  class  comprises  the  "  kept "  women  and 
girls — kept  temporarily  by  one  man.  The  profes- 
sional class  is  composed  of  women  who  ply  a  public 
trade  in  vice. 

It  is  possible  to  estimate  the  numbers  in  this  latter 
class;  in  the  two  former  classes  no  estimate  is  pos- 
sible, but  all  students  of  the  social  question  agree  that 
occasional  prostitution  is  practised  by  a  number  of 
girls  infinitely  greater  than  any  one  would  believe  if 
the  figures  could  be  made  known. 

Under  pressure  of  many  different  kinds,  girls  yield ; 
infatuation  for  a  man  who  makes  them  believe  all 
girls  do  it  and  it  is  "  the  only  way";  low  wages  and 
meagre  comforts ;  love  of  little  luxuries  and  gay  times 
—these  are  the  main  causes.  Some  girls  who  are  in 
it  for  gain  pick  up  any  chance  that  comes  their  way 


52  THE  WORK-A-DAY  GIRL 

to  earn  extra  money.  Others  set  apart  stated  portions 
of  their  time  for  it.  Many  girls  give  their  noon  hour 
to  this.  The  cheap  hotels  and  other  places  of  public 
assignation  (among  which  are  reckoned  to  be  eighty 
per  cent,  of  saloons)  house  at  every  noon  hun- 
dreds of  girls — many  of  them  no  more  than  mere 
children — who  sell  their  dearest  treasure  for  the  price 
of  a  rhinestone  pin  or  a  string  of  blue  beads.  Many 
girls  who  work  in  offices  and  stores  spend  one  or  two 
or  three  nights  a  week  in  some  "  resort,"  and  earn 
the  difference  between  shabby  insufficiency  and  the 
ability  to  compete  with,  or  even  to  dazzle,  the  girls 
who  work  beside  them.  A  department  manager  in 
one  of  Chicago's  largest  and  finest  dry  goods  stores 
recently  told  Dean  Walter  T.  Sumner,  head  of  Chi- 
cago's Vice  Commission,  that  of  the  ten  girls  under 
him,  seven — to  his  definite  knowledge — spent  either 
two  or  three  nights  each  week  in  houses  in  the  Red 
Light  district. 

Probably  they  all  began,  like  Katie,  by  trying  to 
"  be  a  good  Indian !  " 

It  is  the  girls  of  this  class  who  are  engaging  the 
most  serious  attention  of  all  who  have  the  nation's 
welfare  at  heart.  The  United  States  Government, 
through  the  Department  of  Commerce  and  Labour, 
has  been  investigating  conditions  among  these  girls 
for  years.  Many  municipalities  are  waking  to  the 
girls'  needs.  And  much  of  the  religious  and  private 


THE  EFFORT  TO  SAVE  GIRLS  53 

benevolence  which  used  to  be  directed  toward  the  pro- 
fessional prostitute  class  is  now  exercised  to  far  bet- 
ter purpose  in  trying  to  keep  girls  from  getting  into 
that  class.  When  they  are  once  in,  it  is  exceedingly 
hard  to  get  them  to  come  out;  or,  if  they  come  out, 
to  get  them  to  stay. 

The  situation  of  greatest  moment  to  students  of  the 
social  question  to-day  is  just  this:  Economic  evolution 
has  brought  about  a  state  of  affairs  wherein  the 
world's  labour  mart  has  actually  come  to  depend  on 
the  work  of  women  outside  the  home.  It  is  useless 
to  rail  against  this  development — to  ask  the  march  of 
progress  to  turn  back;  the  condition  is  here,  and  it  is 
here  to  stay  and  to  increase. 

The  girls  come  into  the  market  young  and,  for  the 
most  part,  unskilled.  Not  many  of  them  expect  to 
stay.  It  is  an  adventure.  Partly  it  is,  as  with  Katie, 
necessary;  and  largely  it  is,  as  also  with  Katie,  quite 
voluntary.  A  girl  goes  to  work,  now,  as  eagerly  as 
a  boy  does — but  with  different  purpose.  She  has  sel- 
dom any  idea  of  developing  high  proficiency — I  am 
not  speaking  now  of  the  trained,  professional  girl,  but 
of  the  great  mass  of  girl  labour — but  is  in  the  mart 
for  two  reasons:  pleasure  and  matrimony.  She 
wants  a  good  time;  she  wants  to  approve  the  world, 
to  find  life  thrilling  and  satisfying;  she  wants  to  be 
where  there  are  others  like  her,  loving  laughter,  wist- 
ful for  romance,  ardent  for  adventure,  eager  to  flaunt 
attractions.  She  is  a  young  thing,  palpitant  with  all 


54  THE  WORK-A-DAY  GIRL 

that  makes  youth  wonderful.  There  is  almost  noth- 
ing that  she  will  not  dare  if  her  sensitive  pulses  are 
stirred.  Nature  made  her  that  way,  for  her  own 
purposes.  Maternity  calls  for  a  sublime  daring. 
Nature  takes  care  of  that  daring,  jealously. 

Now,  the  thing  that  this  young  creature  can  do  to 
earn  money  is  little  likely  to  interest  her.  There  isn't 
a  great  deal  of  place  in  a  girl's  interests,  when  Spring- 
time reigns  in  the  heart,  for  packing  soda  biscuit  or 
tucking  shirtwaists  or  selling  curtain  rings  or  pound- 
ing out  endless  repetitions  of  "  Yours  of  the  tenth  inst 
rec'd  and  contents  duly  noted."  It  isn't  that  she  doesn't 
like  working;  only,  she  is  uninterested  in  the  work. 

Some  very  dull  routines — like  stitching  and  sorting 
and  packing  and  riling — provide  less  entertainment 
than  may  be  had  in  other  occupations.  But  no  matter 
what  the  surroundings,  it  soon  becomes  apparent  that 
the  Romance  of  which  Katie  is  in  such  eager  quest 
lies  somewhere  beyond;  at  a  dance,  maybe;  or  at  a 
summer  park.  Occasionally  Katie  meets  him  in  her 
work;  but  oftener  she  must  seek  him  outside. 

Where?  Well,  anywhere  that  youth  finds  oppor- 
tunity for  sport,  for  laughter,  for  the  display  of  those 
guiles  and  graces  Nature  has  given  it  to  make  it  at- 
tractive. The  female  creature  may  be  ever  so  able 
to  take  care  of  herself,  but  she  loves  a  male  creature 
with  a  longer  reach  and  a  stronger  grasp  than  her  own 
— some  one  to  provide  for  her.  She  is  thrilled  by 
the  experience  of  being  with  some  one  who  will  show 


THE  EFFORT  TO  SAVE  GIRLS  55 

her  repeated  evidence  of  his  ability  and  his  desire  to 
provide  for  her.  If  she  is  accustomed  to  a  modest 
scale,  she  gets  the  thrill  in  successive  ice-cream  cones 
and  nickel  shows  and  in  drinks  after  every  dance — 
gets  it  just  as  deliciously  as  others  do  whose  "  tokens  " 
come  from  the  florist's  or  the  jeweller's. 

And  the  male  creature,  driven  by  an  instinct  just 
as  strong,  loves  to  dazzle,  to  "  show  off  " ;  loves  to  be 
led  a  chase ;  loves  to  overtake  at  last  her  whom  he  has 
singled  out  for  his  mate. 

Yet  there  are  excellent  people  who  wonder,  sadly, 
why  youths  will  go  to  White  Cities  and  nickel  shows 
and  dances,  and  why  they  will  not  sit  contentedly  in 
"  classes  "  for  the  improvement  of  their  minds  or  the 
inculcation  of  domestic  arts! 

The  life  these  girls  will  enter  upon  when  they 
marry  is  unromantic  enough — full  of  toil  and  poverty 
and  pain  and  severe  renunciation.  It  is  well  for  the 
future  that  Nature's  power  to  dazzle  is  so  strong;  for, 
otherwise,  what  girl  would  have  the  courage  to  take 
that  burden  up?  Some  one  has  said  of  youth  and 
play  that,  as  the  sunlight  of  one  age  goes  into  the 
earth  to  come  out  in  energy  for  a  later  age — meaning, 
of  course,  our  coal  deposits — so  the  laughter  of  youth 
becomes  in  due  process  transmuted  into  power.  All 
those  of  us  who  build  for  the  future — and  no  one  has 
truly  lived  who  has  not  in  some  wise  so  builded — 
should  be  exceedingly  tender  of  the  gaiety  of  young 
girls,  especially  the  gaiety  of  the  little  daughters  of 


56  THE  WORK-A-DAY  GIRL 

the  poor.  The  children  of  to-morrow  ought  not  to 
have  mothers  who  never  knew  Romance. 

In  other  days,  play  was  better  managed  than  it  is 
to-day.  In  the  folk-dances  on  the  village  green;  the 
splendid  pageants  which  celebrated  ducal  weddings 
and  victories  in  war;  the  processions  of  the  Saints' 
Days;  the  inter-township  choral  contests;  the  festivi- 
ties of  the  fair  and  the  competitive  exhibitions  of  the 
great  guilds,  many  people  took  part.  This  is  the 
wholesomest  kind  of  play.  But  it  was  supplemented 
by  much  arena  entertainment — gladiatorial  contests 
succeeded  by  tournaments;  bullfights  in  countries 
where  Spanish  feeling  swayed;  athletic  games  in 
countries  where  the  Greek  spirit  survived. 

We  offer  our  youths  far  too  few  occasions  of  com- 
ing together  in  play.  One  class  of  our  young  people 
has  splendid  opportunities  to  enjoy  the  pleasures  of 
concourse,  in  the  football  games  of  every  fall.  But 
these  scarcely  touch  the  girls  who  toil.  The  Ameri- 
can boy  has  baseball  to  engross  him  from  the  time 
he  is  three  years  old.  It  is  magnificent  for  him  when 
he  plays  it,  and  it  is  great  for  him  when  he  sees  a 
spirited  game  played.  In  a  vacant  lot  my  window 
overlooks,  some  boys  are  playing  as  I  write.  They 
are  young  fellows  of  twenty  or  thereabouts,  and  they 
come  every  Sunday  morning  to  that  lot  to  play.  The 
wine-sap  air  their  lungs  are  drinking  in,  this  golden 
October  morning,  is  invigorating  enough  to  offset 
all  the  dust-laden  air  they  may  have  breathed  through- 


THE  EFFORT  TO  SAVE  GIRLS  57 

out  the  week  in  shop  or  office  or  factory.  The  exer- 
cise they  are  getting  is  glorious.  Once  in  a  while  an 
unusually  lusty  yell  breaks  forth  as  the  fringe  of  on- 
lookers screams  encouragement  to  some  player  who 
is  making  a  good  run.  What  a  thing  that  yell  is! 
When  that  same  youth  sits  on  the  bleachers  at  the 
Ball  Park  and  yells  himself  hoarse  over  some  pretty 
play  of  a  favourite,  he  is  getting  the  fun  of  the  con- 
course, and  it  is  doing  him  a  world  of  good.  But 
here!  Here  he  is  himself,  for  a  brief,  breathless  mo- 
ment, the  hero  who  wins  applause.  And  I  exult  with 
him  in  the  yells  that  acclaim  his  prowess. 

But  where  is  his  sister,  this  wonderful  morning — 
his  sister  who  has  toiled  in  shop  or  factory  just  as 
many  hours  of  the  week  as  he  has?  Where  was  his 
"  girl "  yesterday  afternoon  when  he  spent  his  half- 
holiday  on  the  "  bleachers  "  ?  It  is  possible  she  was 
with  him;  it  is  more  probable  she  was  not. 

On  one  point,  nearly  all  persons  who  have  had  wide 
experience  with  girls  agree ;  and  that  is,  that  few  girls 
incline  naturally  to  vice,  and  most  girls  incline  nat- 
urally to  folly.  For  their  tendency  to  folly  we  must 
not  blame  them.  We  must  remember  why  they  yearn 
to  deck  themselves,  to  attract  attention,  to  laugh  and 
dance  and  be  gay.  And  because  we  see  through  Na- 
ture's design  in  dazzling  them,  in  making  them  mad — 
quite  mad — with  the  madness  of  springtime  and  the 
mating  season,  we  must  not  try  to  check  their  folly, 


58  THE  WORK-A-DAY  GIRL 

only  to  direct  it.  They  must  have  their  fling.  But 
they  ought  to  have  it  wholesomely.  We  owe  it  to 
them  and  to  the  future  that  they  should  have  ample 
opportunity  to  laugh  and  to  attract  and  to  be  courted, 
in  conditions  that  do  not  menace  them.  They  don't 
want  to  go  wrong.  When  they  go,  it  is  because  we 
who  ought  to  be  so  infinitely  concerned  about  them 
have  neglected  some  simple  safeguard. 

And  safeguard  the  innocent  we  must.  For  after 
innocence  (by  which  I  emphatically  do  not  mean 
ignorance)  is  gone,  there  is  woefully  little  we  can 
do  to  repair  the  loss. 

The  safeguarding  is  being  done  in  three  ways :  by 
law,  by  protection,  and  by  warning.  Our  national 
laws  are,  within  the  last  few  years,  fairly  well  designed 
to  take  care  of  immigrant  girls.  > 

But  these  laws  apply  chiefly  to  aliens.  A  much- 
needed  law  for  the  protection  of  our  own  girls  is  re- 
cently operative  in  the  Mann  Law,  which  provides  for 
the  punishment  of  persons  who  transport  women  or 
girls  from  one  State  to  another  for  immoral  purposes. 
Practically  every  State  in  the  Union  has  a  strict  law 
against  the  detention  of  females  in  immoral  resorts 
against  their  will.  But  the  detention  continues.  A 
law  is  worth  just  exactly  what  the  overpowering  major- 
ity of  citizens  wish  it  to  be  worth.  We  have  laws,  too, 
that  regulate  employment  agencies,  compelling  them  to 
operate  under  license  and  making  it  a  misdemeanour 
for  them  to  send  girls  unwittingly  into  vicious  places. 


THE  EFFORT  TO  SAVE  GIRLS  59 

Girls  should  know  these  laws,  and  they  should 
know  that  there  is  redress  for  them  beyond  what  their 
own  feeble  powers  can  accomplish.  Every  city,  every 
State,  has  its  associations  for  the  prosecution  of  any 
who  seek  to  wrong  girls.  A  girl  has  only  to  tell  her 
grievance,  and  competent  pleaders  will  put  it  before 
the  law.  The  nature  of  these  associations  differs 
in  different  States  and  cities.  Some  States  have 
branches  of  the  National  which  is  itself  a  branch  of  the 
International  Vigilance  Association  which  exists 
solely  for  the  protection  of  girls;  and  nearly  every 
city  of  considerable  size  has  a  Women's  Legal  Aid 
Society  and  a  Young  Women's  Christian  Association. 
One  branch  of  the  Vigilance  Association's  work  is  in 
acquainting  girls  and  their  parents  with  the  dangers 
that  beset  girls;  and  with  the  places  where  they  may 
apply  for  direction  or  protection. 

In  our  country  the  organizations  known  as  Travel- 
lers' Aids  are  under  Government  direction  only  at 
ports  of  entry  and  in  behalf  of  immigrant  girls.  The 
safeguarding  of  our  own  girls  journeying  from  coun- 
try to  city  in  search  of  employment,  is  done  only  by 
private  philanthropy.  In  some  cities  it  is  a  depart- 
ment of  the  Young  Women's  Christian  Association; 
in  others,  it  is  a  distinct  organization.  But  no  girl 
need  go  friendless  into  a  strange  city.  There  are 
scores  of  persons  in  every  place  where  girls  go  for 
work,  whose  business  it  is  to  befriend  them.  If  a  girl 
leaves  home  to  answer  an  advertisement,  she  may 


60  THE  WORK-A-DAY  GIRL 

send  the  advertisement  in  advance  of  her  to  the  Secre- 
tary of  the  Vigilance  Association  or  to  the  Employ- 
ment Director  of  the  Young  Women's  Christian  As- 
sociation, and  have  the  advertiser  investigated  and 
reported  upon.  The  same  sources  will  yield  her 
addresses  of  reliable  places  to  board  and  to  seek  em- 
ployment. If  a  girl  has  not  written  before  leaving 
home,  and  made  arrangements  about  where  she  will 
go,  she  should  lose  no  time,  on  arriving  at  the  railway 
station  in  the  strange  city,  before  asking  for  the  ma- 
tron of  the  women's  waiting  room  and  telling  this 
matron  that  she  wants  the  Travellers'  Aid.  If  a 
woman  representing  this  organization  does  not  happen 
to  be  at  the  station,  she  will  come  at  once  on  the 
matron's  telephoned  request.  She  will  advise  the 
girl  where  it  is  safe  for  her  to  go  to  look  for  lodgings 
and  for  employment,  and  will  warn  her  against  all 
the  pitfalls  of  the  city. 

The  great  lack  is  not  of  organizations  to  help  girls, 
but  of  knowledge  that  such  organizations  exist.  The 
ignorance  not  only  of  girls  themselves  but  of  their 
parents  is  the  thing  that  is  hardest  to  overcome. 

The  story  is  current  that  some  employers,  so  far 
from  taking  any  care  like  this,  openly  encourage  im- 
morality among  their  girls.  Government  investigators 
have  found,  for  one  thing,  that  nearly  every  city  has 
its  whispered  legend  of  a  department  store  manager 
who  tells  each  girl  when  he  hires  her  that  it  is  expected 
she  will  have  "  a  friend."  In  other  words,  that  the 


THE  EFFORT  TO  SAVE  GIRLS  61 

store  does  not  suppose  any  girl  will  try  to  live  on  the 
wages  it  pays;  that  it  takes  either  clandestine  or  occa- 
sional prostitution  for  granted.  Stories  of  these 
managers  are  told  in  circumstantial  detail;  but  no 
actual  case  has  ever  been  found  against  any  of  them. 
This  may  be  because  they  are  innocent  of  the  charge, 
or  it  may  be  because  evidence  in  such  cases  is  always 
hard  to  secure.  Another  widely  current  tale  the  Gov- 
ernment has  tried  hard  to  investigate  relates  to  em- 
ployers who  discharge  all  girls  not  found  complaisant 
to  the  demands  of  manager,  floor-walker,  stock-buyer, 
or  the  like.  There  is  one  thing  sure  about  this:  no 
employer  in  his  senses  discharges  a  thoroughly  com- 
petent girl  for  defending  her  honour.  If  a  girl  is 
incompetent— as  such  a  terrible  majority  of  them  are! 
— she  may  be  forced  to  hold  her  place  by  sacrificing 
her  virtue;  an  incompetent  girl  who  is  acquiescent 
may  be  preferred  over  an  incompetent  girl  who  is  not. 
But  in  a  day  when  the  demand  for  skill  so  far  exceeds 
the  supply,  it  may  safely  be  taken  as  axiomatic  that 
efficiency  is  one  of  the  best  protectors  a  girl  can  have. 
Efficiency  doesn't  preclude  immorality — but  it  helps  to 
preclude  it.  For  it  usually  means  an  interest  in  work ; 
and  if  a  girl  has  that  and  the  wage  that  efficiency 
brings,  and  wants  to  be  good,  she  can  get  along  with- 
out any  such  severe  temptations  as  beset  the  girl  whose 
hold  on  her  job  is  tenuous  and  whose  wage  is  inade- 
quate to  more  than  the  barest  subsistence. 

The  two  great  safeguards  for  a  girl  are  knowledge 


62  THE  WORK-A-DAY  GIRL 

of  the  pitfalls  and  skill  to  earn  herself,  independent 
of  favour,  a  decent  living — these,  and  the  opportunity 
to  engage  in  recreation  that  is  lively,  romantic,  and 
wholesome. 

There  are  persons  who  deplore  the  necessity  of  set- 
ting girls  on  guard;  who  declare  with  loud  lamenta- 
tion that  the  sweetness  of  life  is  gone  when  fear  enters 
in.  "  Fools,  and  slow  of  heart!  "  How  can  there  be 
any  who  so  misremember  their  own  youth? 

I  once  took  to  the  park  to  see  the  zoo  a  very  small 
cousin  of  mine.  In  a  moment  when  my  slow  wits 
were  returning  from  some  wool-gathering,  she  was 
under  the  railing  and  close  to  the  bars  of  the  bear 
cage,  endeavouring  to  poke  a  sleeping  grizzly  with  her 
wee  foot.  "  Baby !  "  I  cried.  "  You  mustn't  do  that ! 
The  bear  will  bite  you."  "WhufTor?"  she  asked. 
When  I  explained,  was  her  joy  in  life — and  in  bears — 
gone,  do  you  think?  Why,  long  before  she  could 
either  walk  or  talk,  she  had  loved  the  thrill  of  danger 
— loved  to  be  "  boo-ed  "  at.  Every  normal  creature 
is  still  rich  in  feelings  handed  down  to  him  by  his 
forbears,  who  lived  the  primitive  life  with  all  its 
instincts  of  self-preservation.  We  spiritually  blind- 
fold any  one  when  we  ask  that  one  to  walk  through 
life  unseeing,  uncomprehending,  the  dangers  that 
beset  the  way.  Every  soul  is  entitled  to  the  thrill  of 
picking  a  safe  path  through  dangers.  Our  ardour 
for  adventure  must  have  expression  somehow.  It  is 
in  us  all  to  yearn  to  do  battle  against  our  natural  ene- 


THE  EFFORT  TO  SAVE  GIRLS  63 

mies.  Any  wise  parent  teaches  the  young  first  of  all 
how  to  feed ;  then  how  to  go  in  search  of  sustenance ; 
then  how  to  avoid  enemies  or,  having  met  them,  how 
to  give  most  effective  battle.  A  field  mouse  does  this 
much.  Shall  a  human  parent  do  less? 

So  much  for  safeguarding.  When  more  of  it  is  done, 
we  shall  have  less  salvage  work  to  do.  Just  now,  the 
rescue  of  wreckage  is  a  most  necessary  activity. 

Little  by  little,  the  efforts  to  reclaim  girls  have  been 
tending  to  centre  in  two  kinds  of  helpfulness.  One 
branch  reaches  the  young  girls,  under  age,  who  trans- 
gress the  laws  against  juvenile  delinquency.  The 
other  branch  reaches  the  girls  who  have  been  betrayed 
and  are  about  to  become  mothers. 

What  most  surprises  each  investigator  newly  en- 
tered upon  the  study  of  girls'  reclaim  is  that,  with  the 
exception  of  houses  of  correction  to  which  girls  are 
committed  from  the  courts,  nearly  all  the  effort  ex- 
pended on  unfortunate  girls  is  in  what  is  called  ma- 
ternity work.  This  is  excellent  work.  It  gets  hold 
of  great  numbers  of  girls  of  the  clandestine  and  occa- 
sional classes,  and  offers  them  refuge  at  a  time  when 
they  are  cast  off  not  only  by  their  associates  in  evil- 
doing  but,  all  too  often,  by  their  own  kindred.  These 
girls  are  cared  for  during  a  period  usually  of  several 
months;  are  taught  to  do  some  useful  work,  to  forget 
the  past,  and  to  look  hopefully  toward  the  future. 
And  when  they  are  ready  to  leave  the  Home,  there 
is  always  a  place  waiting  for  them  to  go  to. 


64  THE  WORK-A-DAY  GIRL 

Almost  without  exception  these  workers  believe  in 
keeping  mother  and  child  together  if  it  can  possibly 
be  done.  Experience  has  taught  them,  they  say,  that 
a  greater  per  cent,  of  girls  who  keep  their  fatherless 
children  than  of  girls  who  let  them  go,  are  restored 
to  the  self-respecting  life,  become  good  women,  and 
marry  good  men.  On  the  other  hand,  there  are  work- 
ers no  less  earnest  who  deny  this;  who  believe  the 
struggle  awaiting  the  girl-mother  will  be  hard  enough 
for  her  alone,  and  that  it  is  asking  too  much  of  frail 
human  nature  to  ask  her  to  keep  with  her  the  father- 
less child.  There  are  points  to  be  considered  in  each 
argument. 

For  the  girl  who  wants  to  keep  her  child  with  her, 
there  is  but  one  class  of  work  open — and  that  is  house- 
work, which  is  usually  the  last  work  on  earth  that  a 
pleasure-loving  girl  who  has  fallen  from  virtue  wants 
to  do.  Yet  every  year  hundreds  of  girls,  in  real  hero- 
ism and  beautiful  mother  love,  go  out  of  maternity 
homes  into  strange  families  where  their  shame  is 
known,  and  take  up  the  burden  of  life  as  domestic 
servants.  And  the  demand  for  them  always  exceeds 
the  supply — partly  because  they  work  cheaply;  partly 
because  most  of  them  go  on  farms  where  female 
labour  is  extremely  difficult  to  get;  and  partly  because 
there  are  in  the  world  many  truly  good  people  who  are 
happy  to  do  what  they  can  toward  giving  somebody's 
daughter  another  chance. 

The  greater  number  of  these  brave  girls  marry,  and 


THE  EFFORT  TO  SAVE  GIRLS  65 

those  who  keep  affectionately  interested  track  of  them 
say  that  on  the  whole  they  marry  quite  as  well  as  the 
average  girl  who  has  not  fallen.  The  Florence  Crit- 
tenton  work  is  nearly  all  maternity  work;  so  is  the 
girls'  salvage  work  of  the  Salvation  Army  and  the 
Volunteers  of  America,  and  of  the  Baptist  and  Meth- 
odist Deaconesses ;  and  nearly  every  city  has  its  other 
maternity  homes  unaffiliated.  with  any  order,  but 
nearly  always  under  religious  influence. 

All  of  these  workers  would  welcome  the  girl  of  the 
streets,  of  the  houses  of  shame;  but  she  seldom  comes, 
and  when  she  does  come  she  seldom  stays.  The  rea- 
sons for  this  are  many.  One  of  them  is  that  there 
is  scant  welcome  anywhere  in  the  industrial  world 
for  the  one-time  prostitute.  Some  persons  are  afraid 
of  her  diseased  body,  and  some  are  afraid  of  her 
polluted  mind;  some  are  pharisaical;  and  some  are 
fearful  lest  she  betray  confidence  reposed  in  her 
and  seek  to  undo  some  innocent  one  with  whom  she 
is  thrust  into  association.  Usually  she  is  unskilled 
in  any  kind  of  labour;  and  if  she  has  been  any  length 
of  time  in  the  life  of  public  shame,  she  is  almost  sure 
to  be  mentally  unbalanced  by  drink  and  drugs  and  dis- 
ease, and  by  the  constant  occupation  of  her  mind  with 
vile  things.  For  lewdness  gets  to  be  a  disorder  of 
the  mind  and  is  hard  indeed  to  eradicate.  Also,  the 
inability  to  earn  at  any  form  of  honest  industry  more 
than  a  starvation  wage  soon  discourages  the  girl  who 
has  been  used  to  "  big  money."  She  may  or  may  not 


66  THE  WORK-A-DAY  GIRL 

have  learned  to  like  the  life  of  public  prostitution — 
some  do,  and  some  do  not — but  she  has  never  learned 
to  love  the  life  of  self-respecting  toil,  or  she  would  not 
be  where  she  is.  And  when  she  comes  out  of  the  dis- 
ordered life  and  attempts  to  go  back  into  the  decently 
ordered,  she  finds  that  ordered  life  even  less  to  her 
liking  than  it  was  when  its  humdrum  monotony  so 
palled  on  her  that  she  fell  an  easy  prey  to  sin. 

And  yet,  the  public  prostitute  is  not  a  wholly  hope- 
less creature.  She  does  reform,  sometimes;  and 
sometimes  she  does  stay  reformed.  But  she  requires 
an  almost  superhuman  patience  in  her  would-be  re- 
formers, and  an  almost  superhuman  knowledge  of 
human  nature.  She  is  nearly  always  emotional;  she 
will  weep  hysterically  at  the  mention  of  home  and 
mother,  and  may  respond  with  gratifying  eagerness 
to  the  urging  to  repent.  The  amateur  reformer 
grows  excited  as  she  tells  him  how  hard  the  world  is 
on  fallen  women,  and  how  she  would  love  to  do  better 
if  she  could  only  get  a  chance.  Perhaps  he  gets  her 
a  situation  among  people  who  have  no  knowledge  of 
her  past.  And  the  chances  are  that  she  either  puts 
him  to  shame  by  declaring  herself  for  what  she  is 
(it  is  a  part  of  the  psychology  of  depravity  that  it 
loves  to  boast)  or  brings  a  hornets'  nest  of  just  in- 
dignation about  his  ears  when  it  is  discovered  that 
she  is  so  diseased  as  to  be  less  safe,  physically,  than  a 
leper.  After  one  or  two  failures,  the  amateur  gets 
discouraged.  After  scores  of  failures,  even  the  wise 


THE  EFFORT  TO  SAVE  GIRLS  67 

reformers  grow  disheartened.  The  girls  lie  pro- 
digiously— drugs  make  them  lie,  and  the  criminal  per- 
version of  their  minds  makes  them  lie — and  their  easy 
emotionalism  hardly  lasts  beyond  the  appeal.  Their 
minds  have  got  beyond  the  power  of  any  concentrated 
thought  but  one.  Industrially  they  are  worthless; 
they  seem  not  only  to  lose  power  to  think,  but  also 
to  lose  manual  dexterity.  Even  the  simplest  tasks  to 
which  they  can  be  put,  are  often  beyond  their  power 
to  accomplish.  As  one  discouraged  reformer  said: 
"  If  you  put  one  of  those  girls  in  a  mahogany-lined 
library  with  nothing  to  do  but  answer  the  telephone 
and  paid  her  twenty  dollars  a  week,  she  wouldn't 
stay."  But  only  a  very  unwise  reformer  would  put 
a  girl  fresh  from  a  life  of  public  prostitution  into  a 
mahogany-lined  library  with  nothing  to  do  but  answer 
the  telephone. 

There  is  only  one  possible  cure  for  the  girl  who 
might  be  reclaimed,  and  that  is  work — as  hard  work 
as  she  can  gradually  and  with  infinite  patience  be  made 
capable  of,  and  as  interesting,  fairly-remunerative 
work  as  can  be  found  for  her  to  do.  A  great  deal  has 
been  said  against  those  industrial  homes  to  which  girls 
are  committed  for  correction.  It  is  the  belief  of  some 
persons  who  might  reasonably  be  expected  to  know, 
that  more  girls  graduate  out  of  these  institutions  into 
total  depravity  than  graduate  out  of  them  into  decent 
self-restraint.  If  this  is  so — which  is  open  to  doubt 
and  perhaps  to  proof  in  denial — it  is  sometimes  the 


68  THE  WORK-A-DAY  GIRL 

result  of  ill-management,  but  quite  as  often  the  result 
of  poor  diagnosis.  The  fumbling  diagnosis  of  med- 
ical doctors  puts  many  patients  in  their  graves.  But 
also — diagnosis  being  a  science  yet  in  the  infancy  of 
its  development,  and  the  doctors  doing  the  best  they 
can — they  often  strike  it  right  and  effect  a  cure.  So- 
cial diagnosis  is  an  even  more  undeveloped  science; 
and  in  this  dawn  of  our  consciousness  that  there  can- 
not always  be  one  just  law  for  many  men,  we  are  in- 
evitably "  fumbling."  It  would  be  strange  if  we  did 
not  often  commit  to  an  institution  some  girls  for 
whom  an  institutional  life,  or  that  institutional  life,  is 
almost  predestined  to  bad  results.  But  if  we  fail  to 
cure  some,  it  is  no  less  certain  that  we  do  great  good 
to  others.  And  the  proportion  of  failures  is  not 
greater  than  that  among  parents,  and  probably  not  in 
excess  of  what  it  would  be  if  the  erring  girls  were 
parcelled  among  amateur  philanthropists. 

In  hospital  and  clinic  work,  nowadays,  the  wise 
physician  has  learned  that  he  fumbles  unpardonably 
when  he  tries  to  treat  a  patient  of  whose  living  condi- 
tions he  knows  nothing.  We  have  learned  the  same 
regarding  the  sin-sick;  and  some  day  when  the  spirit 
of  social  service,  of  social  responsibility,  is  awakened 
in  us  all,  we  shall  have  so  many  persons  of  the  edu- 
cated and  earnest  classes  interested,  each  in  some  little 
group  of  the  erring  and  the  neglected,  as  shall  make  it 
possible  for  them  to  get  their  other  chance  in  the  world. 

But  chiefly,  as  we  have  learned  the  value  of  hygiene 


THE  EFFORT  TO  SAVE  GIRLS  69 

and  of  sanitation  and  of  a  pure  food  and  drugs  law, 
in  the  world  of  material  health,  in  the  domain  of 
spiritual  well-being  we  are  also  awakening  to  the 
realization  that  an  ounce  of  prevention  is  worth  a 
great  deal  more  than  a  pound  of  cure.  The  hand  of 
help,  of  rescue,  of  remedy,  must  never  be  stayed. 
But  the  hand  of  good  guidance  must  be  offered  far 
oftener  than  it  has  been ;  and  it  must  be  so  offered  that 
the  ardent,  adventurous  young  creatures  who  need  it 
so,  will  accept  it — confident  of  the  love  and  under- 
standing that  hold  it  out. 

Now  for  a  few  words  of  suggestion  as  to  what 
you  and  I  may  do.  Charity — which  is  love — begins 
at  home.  Do  you  keep  a  domestic  servant  ?  Do  you 
employ  a  clerk  or  an  office  girl?  Do  you  hire  sea- 
sonal help  to  aid  you  in  harvesting  hops  or  picking 
prunes?  Have  you  girls  in  your  employ,  few  or 
many,  in  any  sort  of  capacity?  Do  you  know  where 
they  go  to  look  for  fun,  and  what  they  find?  Does 
it  ever  occur  to  you  that  their  innocent  pleasure  is  any 
part  of  your  obligation?  Does  it  ever  occur  to  you 
that,  all  other  considerations  aside,  their  every  oppor- 
tunity for  wholesome  gaiety  and  recreation  makes 
them  of  more  worth,  not  to  the  community  alone,  but 
to  you?  Many  employers  realize  this.  Many  more 
do  not.  But  each  year  sees  an  increase  in  the  num- 
ber of  the  wise. 

Know  something  of  the  moving-picture  shows  your 
maid-of-all-work  loves  to  frequent.  It  will  give  you 


70  THE  WORK-A-DAY  GIRL 

another  topic  of  common  interest  with  her,  and  also 
an  opportunity  to  satisfy  yourself  if  the  films  are 
all  they  might  be,  if  the  conditions  of  the  theatre  are 
safe  if  a  fire  or  panic  should  occur,  and  if  the  ventila- 
tion is  sufficient.  Go,  once  in  a  while,  to  the  hall 
where  your  little  office-girl  dances.  Make  up  your 
mind  if  it  is  a  good  place  for  her  to  go,  or  if  there  are 
not  others  where  she  could  have  as  much  fun  with  less 
menace.  When  you  are  coming  home  on  Sunday 
nights,  next  summer,  from  your  little  place  up  the 
Sound  or  down  the  bay  or  across  the  lake,  investigate 
conditions  on  the  steamboat.  And  if  you  jfind — as 
you  doubtless  will — that  the  staterooms  are  largely 
used  by  young  excursionists  for  assignation  purposes, 
present  your  protest  to  the  navigation  company,  to 
the  Juvenile  Protective  League,  or  to  anybody  and 
everybody  who  will  give  it  heed.  Know  what  the 
laws  made  for  girls'  protection  are,  and  whenever 
you  see  one  infringed  "  holler  " !  The  laws,  as  we 
have  said  before,  are  worth  exactly  what  the  majority 
of  citizens  manifestly  desire  them  to  be  worth.  Every 
one  of  us  can  do  as  much  as  any  other  one  to  pile  up 
the  majority  on  the  right  side. 

Find  out  what  your  community  is  trying  to  do,  and 
"  get  in  on  it."  Chicago,  for  instance,  has  her  mu- 
nicipal pleasure  halls — beautiful  big  rooms  with  floors 
like  glass,  many  of  them  decorated  with  palms  and 
ferns  from  the  park  conservatories,  all  of  them  with 
the  most  up-to-date  cloak-room  arrangements.  There 


THE  EFFORT  TO  SAVE  GIRLS  71 

are  about  fifteen  of  these,  scattered  over  the  city  in 
the  small  parks  and  playgrounds.  They  are  free. 
Any  society  or  individual  may  have  the  room  on 
a  desired  date  by  speaking  for  it  long  enough  in  ad- 
vance. There  is  no  charity  about  it.  -  Every  one  un- 
derstands that  the  hall  is  a  Park  Board  property,  and 
feels  entitled  to  use  it  if  he  cares  to.  And  thousands 
of  young  people  every  week  have  their  good  times 
here,  who  used  to  have  no  other  meeting-places  than 
in  the  halls  run  by  saloons. 

A  post-card  sent  to  the  Superintendent  of  Small 
Parks,  South  Park  Board,  Chicago,  will  bring  you  a 
detailed  history  of  how  this  movement  has  been 
financed  and  what  it  has  accomplished.  Perhaps  you 
can  start  a  similar  movement  in  your  community. 

Investigation  proves  that  the  girls  who  frequent 
Settlements  seldom  patronize  the  dangerous  resorts. 
Perhaps  you  can  do  something  to  help  "  get  up " 
things  at  a  Settlement,  and  keep  more  girls  entertained 
there.  There  is  no  one  who  cannot  do  something  to 
help  keep  one  little  girl  happy  and  safe.  The  cheap 
labour  of  these  little  sisters  has  brought  within  the 
reach  of  multitudes  of  us  such  luxuries  and  gratifica- 
tions as  only  the  very  rich  in  another  age  could  afford 
to  enjoy.  Shall  we  not  make  them  some  affectionate 
return?  If  the  laughter  of  youth  to-day  becomes  the 
energy  of  the  world  to-morrow,  do  we  not  owe  to 
posterity  some  investment  in  glee  and  the  possibilities 
of  Romance? 


Ill 

WHERE  THE  TROUBLE  BEGINS 

SIDE  by  side  at  the  rail  they  stood,  the  American 
parents  and  the  mother  who  was  foreign-born. 
It  was  in  the  room  of  the  Assistant  Chief  Pro- 
bation Officer  of  the  Chicago  Juvenile  Court,  whose 
business  it  is  to  hear  complaints  and  issue  warrants 
for  bringing  children  into  court. 

The  American  family  group  was  composed  of 
father,  mother,  and  young  man  son,  the  latter  perhaps 
twenty  years  old.  They  were  people  of  more  than 
comfortable  circumstances — well  educated,  well  man- 
nered, well  dressed.  The  father,  who  gave  his  occu- 
pation as  that  of  travelling  salesman,  was  so  overcome 
that  he  could  not  conclude  his  testimony,  but  had  to 
retire.  In  his  stead  his  son  tried  to  do  what  had  to 
be  done.  The  mother  grasped  the  railing  for  support, 
and  bit  her  twitching  lips  in  an  effort  to  keep  an  out- 
ward calm.  She  was  full  of  solicitude  for  "  Papa  " 
— as  she  called  him — and  was  evidently  trying  des- 
perately to  keep  up  for  his  sake. 

They  were  there  to  entreat  the  arrest  of  the  only 
daughter  of  the  household,  on  the  charge  that  she 
was  "  incorrigible."  She  was  not  quite  sixteen,  and 

they  hoped  that  she  might  be  committed  to  some  insti- 

72 


^  bo 
•O 


WHERE  THE  TROUBLE  BEGINS          73 

tution  where  she  could  be  reclaimed  from  those  last 
depths  of  degradation  to  which  she  was  now  slipping. 
They  acknowledged  their  powerlessness  to  restrain 
her.  Unless  the  law  would  intervene,  they  could  see 
no  hope. 

Beside  them,  waiting  their  turn  at  the  listening  ear, 
stood  the  foreign-born.  The  mother  was  a  beak- 
faced,  thin  woman,  with  a  curiously  crooked,  thin- 
lipped  mouth,  and  small,  bead-like  eyes.  Her  head 
was  wrapped  in  a  dirty  veil  that  had  once  been  white. 
Her  hands,  gripping  the  rail  beside  those  of  the  other 
mother,  were  toil-roughened  and  looked  as  if  they 
had  not  been  washed  in  a  week.  (The  hands  beside 
them  were  neatly  kid-gloved.)  This  woman's  sag^ 
ging,  dragging  clothes  exhibited  not  one  last,  linger- 
ing trace  of  that  feminine  pride  of  appearance  which 
dies  so  late  and  so  hard;  they  covered  her  nakedness 
and  therewith  they  served  their  sole  purpose. 

She  had  brought  her  daughter  to  the  court.  She 
needed  no  officer  with  warrant  to  enforce  her  will — 
one  look  at  that  thin,  crooked  mouth  made  this  fact 
evident.  The  daughter  was  a  rather  handsome  girl — 
or  she  would  have  been  but  for  her  quite  terrible  ex- 
pression, compounded  of  bold  defiance  and  black  sul- 
lenness;  in  her  masses  of  dark  puffs  (which  suffi- 
ciently marked  her  status;  she  was  still  wearing  an 

•*j 

effect  like  three  pounds  of  frankfurters  at  the  back 
of  her  head,  instead  of  the  newer  effect  of  a  row  of 
buns  all  around  it)  were  two  large  combs  glittering 


74  THE  WORK-A-DAY  GIRL 

with  rhinestones.  She  had  no  head-covering  except 
the  frankfurters  (which  in  truth  were  plenty!),  but 
she  wore  at  least  three  "  gilt "  rings  and  her  red  dress 
had  an  indefinable  air  of  having  been  chosen  less  to 
gratify  her  sense  of  beauty  than  to  attract  a  certain 
kind  of  attention.  She  looked  as  irreclaimable  as  it 
is  possible  for  a  girl  not  yet  sixteen  to  look;  and  yet 
she  was  still  under  a  certain  terror  of  that  mother 
with  the  thin,  crooked  mouth. 

There  they  stood,  neat  suit  of  gray  brushing  non- 
descript garments  of  dirt-bespattered  black;  grimed 
hand  with  inky  finger-nails,  not  a  foot  from  shapely 
hand  in  well-fitting  kid;  face  of  flint,  and  face  of  putty 
— invoking  the  law  against  their  young  daughters. 

That  was  a  week  ago.  In  the  meantime  the  cases 
(with  many  scores  of  others)  have  been  investigated. 
Here  are  the  results  of  investigation  : 

Myrtle  Taylor  is  a  high  school  girl.  Her  father's 
salary  is  forty  dollars  a  week,  and  his  expenses  are 
paid  when  he  is  on  the  road.  His  wife  knows  exactly 
how  much  he  gets,  but  she  has  no  fixed  and  depend- 
able part  of  it.  They  have  a  good  many  unpleasant 
hours  every  time  he  is  at  home — nearly  always  about 
money  matters.  He  has  some  ideas  of  saving,  she  has 
none;  when  he  talks  about  it,  he  indicates  that  it 
should  be  done  in  the  household  expenditures;  w.hen 
she  makes  reply,  she  retorts  that  it  could  better  be 
done  out  of  his  liberal  allowance  for  himself.  They 
live  in  a  $35.00  flat.  Some  of  the  time  they  keep  a 


WHERE  THE  TROUBLE  BEGINS         75 

servant.  They  sent  their  boy  to  high  school  until 
he  was  eighteen,  and  then  to  business  college  for  a 
year.  He  has  had  three  "  jobs,"  but  he  kept  none  of 
them,  because  they  "  weren't  much."  Just  now  he  is 
"  looking  for  something  " — not  too  tirelessly.  The 
mother  belongs  to  that  fast-growing  class  of  American 
women  who  are  committed  to  the  belief  that  their 
young  can  do  no  harm  and  that  the  world  should  ask 
no  better  boon  than  the  happiness  of  conforming  to 
the  wishes  of  their  youngsters  at  least  as  slavishly  as 
their  mothers  have  done.  Mrs.  Taylor  is  mildly  but 
inflexibly  of  the  opinion  that  her  children  are  the 
handsomest  and  cleverest  and  engagingest  ever  born; 
that  any  pleasure  they  are  unable  to  attain  without 
effort  on  their  part,  is  withheld  from  them  by  an  un- 
kind fate;  and  that  any  one  who  does  not  instantly 
fall  captive  to  her  children's  charms,  without  waiting 
to  ask  that  cause  be  shown  therefor,  is  warped  by 
envy  or  embittered  by  inferiority. 

Secure  in  her  conviction  that  Myrtle's  charms  out- 
class those  of  every  other  girl  in  school,  Mrs.  Taylor 
has  never  been  able  to  see  why  Myrtle  should  not  have 
clothes  at  least  as  good  as  any  other  girl  has;  why 
she  should  not  give  parties  of  a  superiority  commen- 
surate with  her  own.  In  the  high  school  Myrtle  goes 
to,  the  girls  "  put  on  a  lot  of  style."  Not  to  own  a 
silver  purse  is  to  be  cheap  indeed.  Not  to  wear  silk 
stockings  is  to  show  that  one  has  none  of  the  instincts 
of  a  lady.  Not  to  be  taken  to  parties  in  a  carriage 


76  THE  WOKK-A-DAY  GIRL 

is  to  prove  that  one  is  not  Considered  worthy  of  two 
dollars  of  a  school  boy's  pocket  money — whereas,  to 
be  taken  in  a  carriage  for  two,  instead  of  one  shared 
with  another  boy  and  girl,  is  to  flaunt  one's  self  as 
a  belle  indeed;  one  who  can  make  a  boy  spend  four 
dollars  if  he  wants  the  honour  of  escorting  her.  Myr- 
tle did  not  have  long  to  suffer  the  (degradation  ofjteing 
silver-bagless.  And  her  silk  stockings  (although  they 
were  only  "  boot-silk,"  meaning  that  all  was  cotton 
except  the  part  that  "showed")  were  of  such  an 
extra-ladylikeness  that  from  a  little  distance  Myrtle 
looked  as  if  her  feet  were  thrust  bare  into  her  pumps. 
As  for  the  carriage!  Mrs.  Taylor  glowed  with  tri- 
umph when  she  heard  that  Myrtle  was  going  to  a 
party  with  the  only  boy  in  the  class  who  disdained 
to  share  his  hired  carriage,  and  the  cost  of  it,  with 
another  fellow.  Mrs.  Taylor  didn't  know  much  else 
about  that  boy,  but  she  felt  signally  honoured  in  her 
motherhood  when  he  asked  her  girl  to  a  party;  and 
she  got  Myrtle  a  new  dress  for  the  occasion.  She 
showed  the  dress,  sorrowfully,  to  the  woman  investi- 
gator from  the  court,  as  a  proof  of  her  thorough- 
goingness  as  a  mother.  It  was  a  "  tunic "  effect 
with  a  white  satin  foundation  and  an  overdress  of 
gold-beaded  white  net,  edged  with  gold  bead  fringe. 
With  it  Myrtle  had  to  have  white  satin  slippers  and 
white  silk  stockings  and  long  white  kid  gloves,  and 
other  finery  of  the  same  order.  Mrs.  Taylor's  tearful 
manner  was  as  if  she  would  say :  "  Can  you  under- 


WHERE  THE  TROUBLE  BEGINS          77 

stand  why  Myrtle  would  do  wilful,  wayward  things, 
when  I  have  tried  to  give  her  everything  she  wanted  ?  " 

What  she  called  Myrtle's  "  incorrigibility "  had 
"  developed  suddenly,"  according  to  the  weak-minded 
mother,  who  did  not  know  that  she  herself  had  sown 
the  seeds  and  coaxed  along  the  harvest. 

Myrtle  was  "very  popular,"  she  said,  with  pride; 
she  went  to  a  great  many  parties,  and  to  shows  and 
amusement  parks.  "  She  always  has  lots  of  beaux." 
Her  mother  was  gratified  by  this,  and  encouraged  it 
all  she  could.  But  Myrtle  began  staying  out  very  late 
— later  than  her  mother  thought  was  "  ladylike." 
Myrtle  resented  any  criticism  of  these  late-returnings. 
When  the  criticism  persisted,  she  began  stopping  away 
from  home — with  girl  friends,  she  said.  Her  mother 
had  some  vague  mislike  of  this,  but  did  not  see  how 
she  could  do  anything  about  it.  "  I  didn't  want  to 
make  her  mad — I  was  afraid  she'd  run  away  or  do 
something  dreadful."  Myrtle  showed  some  signs  her 
mother  rather  deplored;  she  was  rather  coarse  and 
common  in  her  speech;  she  was  loud  and  rude  in  her 
frequent  laughter;  and  her  mother  often  caught  her  in 
lies ;  but  she  thought  "  girls  always  get  that  way  for 
a  while,  when  they're  growing  up."  No;  she  didn't 
always  know  where  Myrtle  was — Myrtle  resented 
having  to  give  account  of  herself.  No;  she  didn't 
know  much  about  Myrtle's  friends;  "they're  lively 
young  folks  and  don't  spend  much  time  around  the 
house — there's  nothing  to  do  here."  No;  she  had 


78  THE  WORK-A-DAY  GIRL 

never  asked  Myrtle  to  do  any  housework,  or  to  learn 
to  sew;  "  she  may  have  to  do  these  things  by  and  by, 
and  she  can  only  be  young  once."  And  when  it  was 
brought  home  to  her,  so  she  could  not  deny  it,  that 
Myrtle  was  leading  a  fast  life  with  boys,  Mrs.  Taylor 
blamed  the  boys — but  she  never  blamed  Myrtle,  nor 
herself.  It  was  only  when  Myrtle  eluded  home  vigi- 
lance and,  being  caught,  defied  home  authority,  that 
Mrs.  Taylor  told  her  husband,  on  the  occasion  of  his 
next  being  at  home.  He  was  outraged;  he  blamed 
her;  he  took  matters  into  his  own  hands;  he  forbade 
Myrtle  to  go  out  of  the  house  except  with  her  family. 
When  she  disobeyed,  he  essayed  to  whip  her;  her 
mother  intervened  and  Myrtle  ran  away. 

That  is  Myrtle. 

Tina,  whom  her  mother  had  brought  to  court,  is  a 
garment-maker;  one  of  those  who,  by  the  infinite  sub- 
division of  labour,  make  one  small  part  of  a  man's 
coat.  (About  140  pairs  of  hands  are  engaged  upon 
every  "  ready-made  "  suit.)  Tina's  father  is  an  un- 
skilled labourer.  That  means,  he  works,  now  here, 
now  there,  not  as  he  needs  the  work  but  as  this  or  that 
work  temporarily  needs  him.  Just  at  present  he  is 
employed  at  the  Stock  Yards,  where  he  gets  $1.75 
a  day.  There  are  eight  children.  Tina's  mother  has 
had  to  earn  money  to  help  keep  them  alive;  she  is  a 
"  home-finisher  "  on  men's  coats.  By  using  her  chil- 
dren as  helpers,  she  manages  to  make  sometimes  as 
high  as  seven  dollars  a  week.  But  this  means  the 


WHERE  THE  TROUBLE  BEGINS          79 

neglect  of  her  house ;  her  own  weariness — unto  exas- 
peration; and  the  sacrifice  of  the  children's  playtime. 
But  what  else  can  she  do?  Last  year,  as  nearly  as 
they  are  able  to  remember,  her  "man"  worked  210 
days  and  earned  about  $350 — less  than  a  dollar  a 
day  to  house,  feed,  and  clothe  ten  of  a  family!  No 
one  could  question  the  mother's  urgent  need  to  work, 
and  even  to  "  impress  "  the  services  of  her  little  chil- 
dren. But  also,  no  one  could  question  the  pity  of  it 
all  from  the  children's  point  of  view,  and  from  hers. 
The  ten  of  them  live  in  four  small,  dark  rooms.  Most 
of  the  sewing  is  done  by  lamplight.  The  air  is  bad 
(and  they  don't  realize  what  effect  bad  air  has  on 
tempers),  the  crowding  is  bad  (and  wears  on  strained 
nerves),  and  they  are  all  habitually  underfed  (under- 
feeding makes  any  creature  snarl).  Tina's  mother  is 
what  almost  any  well-fed  and  well-housed  woman 
would  call  "  cruel "  to  her  children.  But  life  has 
certainly  not  been  kind  to  her.  Her  own  youth  was 
hard.  So  far  as  her  experience  has  taught  her,  all 
life  is  bitter  for  the  poor.  If  she  were  just  a  little 
less  driven,  she  might  be  sorry  for  her  children.  But 
she  isn't  sorry  for  them — she  is  just  exasperated  by 
them.  Like  all  foreign-born  parents,  she  expects 
Tina  to  hand  over  to  her  an  unopened  pay  envelope. 
Tina,  when  she  went  to  work  in  a  shop  (at  fourteen), 
had  never  dreamed  of  doing  otherwise.  But  when 
she  got  among  other  girls,  some  of  whom  had  slightly 
less  cruel  pressure  at  home,  slightly  more  indulgent 


80  THE  WORK-A-DAY  GIRL 

mothers,  and  saw  them  flaunting  small  fineries  she 
could  not  imitate,  her  heart  grew  bitter.  One  Satur- 
day she  steamed  open  her  pay  envelope  and  abstracted 
a  dollar.  (Being  a  piece-worker,  as  nearly  all  gar- 
ment-makers are,  her  earnings  vary  from  week  to 
week.)  Then  she  gummed  the  envelope  again,  and 
changed  one  of  the  figures  marked  on  it.  With  the 
dollar  she  bought  herself  a  rhinestone  comb  which  she 
passionately  coveted.  She  told  her  mother  a  lie  about 
her  slim  pay.  She  had  to  keep  the  comb  at  the  shop. 
Once,  she  forgot  and  wore  it  home.  Her  mother  de- 
manded to  know  where  she  got  it.  Tina  said  she  had 
bought  it.  Her  mother  beat  her,  and  broke  the 
comb.  She  was  infuriated,  but  she  was  too  weary 
to  know  whether  her  fury  was  caused  by  fear  that 
Tina  had  sold  her  virtue  to  get  the  comb,  or  by  resent- 
ment that  she  had  spent  a  dollar  for  it.  Tina  was 
made  rebellious  and  deceitful  by  this  experience.  It 
was  some  time  before  she  again  tampered  with  a  pay 
envelope. 

But  she  got  another  rhinestone  comb!  She  was 
careful  to  keep  the  new  one  out  of  sight.  But  the 
first  experience  had  planted  a  suspicion  in  her  mother's 
mind.  It  is  a  mind  that  has  little  "  usage  of  reason." 
Tina's  youth,  her  inevitable  love  of  adornment,  of 
gaiety,  do  not  plead  for  her  with  her  mother.  Life 
is  bitter  and  bread  is  scarce;  what  right,  then,  has 
Tina  with  a  rhinestone  comb?  As  if  stripes  would 
beat  out  the  love  of  finery,  Tina's  mother  laid  them 


WHERE  THE  TROUBLE  BEGINS          81 

on  Tina  unrelentingly.  Tina  is  accustomed  to  being 
beaten;  all  her  life  she  has  paid  the  penalty  for  exas- 
perating her  mother's  nerves  or  her  father's  sullen- 
ness,  by  chastisement  varying  from  a  cuff  on  the  ear 
to  a  whipping  with  a  stick.  Any  beating  that  should 
be  memorable  to  Tina  must,  in  her  mother's  reasoning, 
be  severer  than  the  ordinary  outbursts.  Thus  she 
hoped  to  cure  Tina  of  a  weakness  for  adornment  and 
to  prevent  her  from  gratifying  it  by  wrongdoing. 
By  way  of  further  precaution,  she  put  sharp  restric- 
tions on  Tina's  going  out  evenings  and  Sundays.  She 
demanded  that  Tina  come  home  from  the  shop,  eat  a 
few  morsels  of  hastily-prepared  supper,  and  sit  down 
in  the  crowded,  noisome  rooms,  to  do  "  finishing  "  on 
coats.  She  thought  thus  to  keep  Tina  "  straight." 
Tina  began  to  tell  lies  about  "  working  overtime  " — 
so  she  might  go  to  a  nickel  show,  or  for  a  walk  on 
the  bright  and  busy  streets.  Once  a  fellow  invited 
her  to  go  to  an  amusement  park.  She  did  not  get 
home  till  midnight.  Her  mother  heard  her,  de- 
nounced her  "  overtime  "  story  as  a  lie,  beat  her  still 
more  cruelly,  and  next  day  took  time  from  her  "  fin- 
ishing "  to  go  to  Tina's  shop  and  inquire  how  much 
night  work  she  had  been  doing.  After  that,  Tina 
was  obliged  to  be  at  home  every  evening  before  sup- 
per, unless  she  could  bring  her  mother  a  card  from 
the  boss  showing  that  he  had  detained  her  for  overtime 
work.  Tina  was  growing  more  and  more  sullen,  but 
she  came  home  regularly  at  six-thirty.  Her  mother 


82  THE  WORK-A-DAY  GIRL 

was  satisfied  that  she  had  "  cured  "  Tina.  Then  one 
day  a  neighbour  asked :  "  Ain't  Tina  workin'  no 
more  ? "  and  when  answered  that  Tina  was,  de- 
clared that  she  had  seen  Tina  "  to  the  park,  yeste'day, 
with  a  fella."  Tina  denied  this;  the  neighbour  per- 
sisted, and  the  truth  finally  came  out:  Tina  was 
"  sporting  "  in  the  daytime,  and  leading  a  double  life. 
She  left  home  mornings  at  the  regular  hour  for  going 
to  work.  She  came  home  evenings  before  supper; 
she  brought  home  a  pay  envelope  which  she  bought, 
every  Saturday  afternoon,  from  a  girl  she  knew  who 
had  no  parents  and  was  glad  to  sell  a  $5.00  en- 
velope for  $5.50  or  $6.00.  Her  time  Tina  spent  in 
the  cheap  stores,  at  the  parks,  and  in  any  low,  vicious 
lodging  house  where  she  could  get  a  fellow  to  take 
her. 

That  is  Tina. 

On  adjoining  benches  in  the  waiting  room  of  the 
Juvenile  Court,  Myrtle  and  Tina  sit.  Myrtle's  face 
is  swollen  with  much  crying ;  Tina's  is  black  with  sul- 
len hate.  Myrtle's  mother  is  "  overcome,"  and  has 
frequent  outbursts  of  hysteria  which  a  woman  friend 
tries  to  hush.  Mrs.  Taylor  is  surcharged  with  bitter- 
ness against  the  Law  because  it  will  not  allow  her  to 
recant  her  plea  and  take  Myrtle  home,  until  the  case 
has  been  given  a  hearing.  Tina's  mother  fumes  as 
she  thinks  of  the  coats  she  might  be  finishing — that 
she  should  be  finishing,  now  that  Tina  is  to  be  "  put 
away  "  where  she  can  contribute  nothing  to  the  family 


WHERE  THE  TROUBLE  BEGINS          83 

support;  she  is  enraged  at  Tina.  After  all  the  starva- 
tion years,  just  when  she  could  ease  the  pinch  of  pov- 
erty for  them  all  by  nearly  as  much  as  either  of  her 
parents  earned,  that  she  should  "  go  an'  do  like  this  " 
proves  conclusively  to  her  mother  that  "  she  is  no 
good." 

Now,  what's  to  be  done  with  Myrtle?  With  Tina? 
Who  can  devise  anything  that  Society  may  do  for 
them,  in  its  utmost  tenderness  for  their  sad  fortune, 
whereby  they  may  be  absolved  from  further  paying 
the  penalty  of  their  parents'  insufficiency  ? 

The  court  may  send  them  to  reformatory  institu- 
tions. Yet,  every  year  we  live  and  struggle  to  do 
justly,  our  social  conscience  rebels  more  and  more 
against  taking  young  people  out  of  active  life  and 
segregating  them  with  numbers  of  others  who  have 
all  suffered  like  misfortune.  It  is  a  poor  substitute 
for  justice  to  Myrtle,  to  Tina,  to  brand  them  (how- 
ever gently  and  however  reluctantly)  on  the  county 
records  as  "  incorrigible " ;  to  send  them  to  the 
Women's  Refuge  or  the  Girls'  Industrial  School  or 
the  House  of  the  Good  Shepherd,  to  pass  those  years 
that  should  be  their  sweetest  (from  now  till  they  are 
eighteen)  in  the  exclusive  company  of  other  girls  who 
have  suffered  moral  shipwreck.  Yet  what  may  be 
hoped  for  them  if  they  are  sent  back  to  their  homes? 
What  control  over  Myrtle  can  that  weak-minded, 
vacillating  mother  establish  at  this  late  day?  What 
realization  of  youth's  needs,  and  of  its  rights,  can 


84  THE  WORK-A-DAY  GIRL 

be  brought  home  to  that  harassed  mother  of  Tina  in 
whom  cruelty  might  well  be  diagnosed  a3  nerves 
starved  and  strained  to  continuous  exasperation? 

Not  all  the  Myrtles,  by  any  manner  of  means, 
get  into  court.  Their  misdemeanours  are  oftenest 
"  hushed  up  " ;  their  segregation  is  determined  upon 
by  their  own  families,  and  its  nature  is  according  to 
the  family  income.  Thousands  of  Myrtles  just  ap- 
proaching ungovernableness,  are  sent  away  to  schools 
in  the  hope  of  being  made  amenable  to  discipline. 
Hundreds  of  them  are  shifted  to  a  distant  locality — 
anywhere  from  visiting  a  relative  in  the  country  to 
making  a  tour  of  Europe — in  the  usually  vain  hope 
that  removal  from  "  contaminating  company "  (it 
always  seems  certain  to  weak  parents  that  contamina- 
tion must  come  from  without!)  may  miraculously  de- 
velop a  strong  moral  character.  Change  frequently 
makes  it  easier  for  an  individual  to  start  upon  a  new 
plane;  but  only  if  he  has  the  strong  desire  to  take 
advantage  of  fresh  surroundings.  Shift  from  one 
scene  to  another  ought  not  to  be  depended  on  to  create 
a  moral  impulse,  nor  to  evoke  a  careful  self-govern- 
ment out  of  a  chaos  characterized  by  years  of  gov- 
ernment by  whim. 

Nothing  is  so  certain  about  any  of  us  as  that  we 
must  live  under  the  Law.  We  may  live  under  it 
willingly,  intelligently,  approving  its  wisdom  and  glad 
to  live  by  it ;  or  we  may  live  under  it  sullenly,  grudg- 
ingly, accepting  its  dictates  only  because  the  strength 


WHERE  THE  TROUBLE  BEGINS          85 

of  many  is  greater  than  our  puny  single  strength.  It 
is  the  business  of  parents  to  know  the  laws  of  nature 
and  of  the  commonwealth,  and  to  teach  their  children 
the  wisdom  of  those  laws,  the  necessity  for  them,  and 
the  sovereignty  of  upholding,  the  slavery  of  defying 
them. 

Now,  consider  the  preparation  Myrtle  has  had  for 
entering  upon  a  world  where  no  one  has  any  tender- 
ness for  her  except  as  she  wins  it ;  where  she  must  con- 
tinue to  subsist  either  as  a  wage-earner  or  as  some 
man's  household  director  and  the  mother  and  in- 
structor of  his  children;  where  her  failures  in  duty 
cannot  be  condoned  by  a  mother  "  love  "  complacent 
in  its  sloppiness,  but  must  be  measured  by  society's 
standards  and  condemned  out  of  society's  resentment. 

Myrtle  has  been  brought  up  to  earn  nothing — not 
even  respect.  She  has  been  nurtured  in  the  belief  that 
she  deserved  the  world's  best  and  that  if  "  the  best " 
recognized  its  duty,  it  would  arise  and  come  to  her. 

Poor  Tina,  on  the  other  hand,  has  been  reared  in 
an  almost  complete  denial  of  her  rights.  Undoubt- 
edly she  must  continue  to  live  without  many  of  her 
rights;  but  she  will  not  yield  to  this  hard  condition 
(she  should  not  yield  to  it!)  without  making  what 
effort  she  can  to  be  happy.  And  who  has  ever  taught 
her  wherein  happiness  lies — even  such  meagre  happi- 
ness as  she  may  hope  to  grasp? 

As  between  the  two  girls,  sympathy  goes  out  most 
naturally  and  most  abundantly  to  Tina.  Few  parents 


86  THE  WORK-A-DAY  GIRL 

of  the  well-fed,  comfortably-housed  classes  are  guilty 
of  cruelty  to  their  children — at  least  of  such  cruelty 
as  Tina  has  suffered;  for  that  is  largely  an  outcome 
of  nerve-destroying  conditions  of  work  and  rest  and 
of  life  in  general.  It  not  infrequently  happens  that 
an  overworked  parent  of  the  well-to-do  or  wealthy 
class,  is  occasionally  harsh  or  unkind  to  a  child  in  a 
moment  of  exasperation;  but  the  liability  to  this  de- 
creases as  comforts  increase;  and  the  wrong  from 
which  too  many  children  of  the  comfortable  suffer,  is 
the  neglect  that  comes  from  full-fed  sloth. 

So,  let  us  consider  Myrtle  a  little  further.  If  the 
court  commits  her  to  an  institution,  she  will  be  under 
restraint  of  regulations  that  are  necessarily  pretty 
severe.  She  cannot  continue  as  she  has  been  doing, 
because  she  will  be  shut  away  from  all  such  opportu- 
nities, and  unremittingly  watched.  But  no  institu- 
tional directors  would  be  so  benighted  as  to  imagine 
for  a  moment  that  mere  restraint  from  doing  wrong 
is  going  to  eradicate  in  Myrtle  all  those  pampered 
propensities  which  have  been  developing  for  sixteen 
years.  Locking  her  away  from  evil  is  not  going  to 
make  her  good — that  is  why  so  many  parents  fail  sig- 
nally when  finally  they  are  awakened  to  the  need  of 
correction;  they  simply  deny  and  prohibit  and  curb; 
they  do  not  substitute  and  build  up  and  encourage. 

The  worst  thing  that  could  happen  to  Myrtle  in  an 
institution  would  be  to  give  her  time  to  dwell  on  the 
fact  that  she  is  under  restraint.  The  restraint  is 


WHERE  THE  TROUBLE  BEGINS          87 

there,  and  she  will  feel  it  every  time  she  goes  beyond 
certain  bounds;  but  the  effort,  now,  is  to  keep  her  from 
wanting  to  pass  those  bounds — to  keep  her  interest- 
edly busy  inside  of  them.  And  this,  of  course,  is  just 
what  her  parents  should  have  done  for  her;  and  did 
not  do. 

The  bounds  for  a  girl  like  Myrtle,  living  at  home 
with  her  parents,  ought  to  be  firmly  fixed  once  and 
for  all — not  shifted  and  altered  according  to  the 
parental  "  nerves "  on  different  occasions  nor  yet 
according  to  the  "  nuisance  "  of  withstanding  Myrtle's 
teasing  or  pouting  or  storming.  But  if  Myrtle  can 
be  kept  busy — continuously  busy — she  will  have  a 
minimum  of  time  in  which  to  think  about  her  bounds 
and  long  to  break  them.  Idleness  is  the  curse  of  the 
Myrtles,  as  overwork  is  the  danger  of  the  Tinas — idle- 
ness and  indulgence,  as  against  exhaustion  and  denial. 
Both  extremes  are  full  of  peril. 

Myrtle  should  have  helped  in  the  housework  from 
the  first  day  when  she  was  able  to  serve  by  saving 
steps  for  her  mother.  She  should  have  gone  to  the 
store  for  purchases,  and  been  entrusted  with  steadily 
increasing  responsibility  in  buying,  so  that  she  might 
learn  the  great  business  of  being  a  careful  and  wise 
spender.  She  should  have  been  dressed  out  of  a  stated 
portion  of  the  family  income,  determined  upon  after 
thoughtful  consideration;  most  persons  of  sound  sense 
would  agree  that  the  school-girl  daughter  of  a  family 
of  four  whose  total  income  is  $2,000  should  not  ex- 


88  THE  WORK-A-DAY  GIRL 

ceed  $75  a  year;  many  would  put  the  amount  as  low 
as  $50  or  $60.  By  the  time  she  is  sixteen,  Myrtle 
should  have  learned  enough  about  money  values  and 
about  her  own  needs  to  be  given  a  monthly  allowance 
for  dress  and  all  other  expenses.  It  is  little  less  than 
a  crime  against  Myrtle  to  allow  her  to  make  demands 
beyond  what  the  family  income  warrants,  and  to  ac- 
cede to  those  demands.  She  must  not  and  she  cannot 
carry  this  demandingness  beyond  her  parents'  home. 
Why  should  they  weakly  encourage  her  to  do  some- 
thing which  will  inevitably  bring  her  sorrow  when  she 
tries  it  with  others  than  themselves?  All  her  life 
Myrtle,  no  matter  what  she  attains,  will  have  to  con- 
tent herself  without  many  things  that  she  sees  other 
people  enjoying.  What  preparation  for  this  content- 
ment is  it  to  buy  her  a  silver  bag  or  a  gold-beaded 
dress  which  are  not  only  unbecoming  her  years  and 
her  station  but  are  a  gross  pampering  of  the  prepos- 
terous notion  that  Myrtle  must  have  what  "  other 
girls  have  "  ? 

Myrtle  is  young  and  eager  to  be  attractive  and  to 
be  happy.  She  has  a  right  to  be  attractive,  and  she 
has  a  right  to  be  happy.  She  has  a  right,  too,  to  such 
bringing-up  as  shall  teach  her  how  to  be  attractive 
without  being  tasteless  and  wantonly  extravagant — a 
gaudy  little  puppet  instead  of  a  winsome,  sweet  young 
girl.  And  she  has  a  right  to  be  taught  from  her  baby- 
hood to  find  pleasures  well  within  the  bounds  of  safety 
and  of  possible  criticism.  She  has,  too,  a  right  to 


WHERE  THE  TROUBLE  BEGINS          89 

be  useful.  Huxley  declares  that  the  sense  of  useless- 
ness  is  the  severest  shock  which  the  human  system  can 
sustain,  and  that  if  persistently  sustained,  it  results 
in  atrophy  of  function.  Conversely  the  sense  of  use- 
fulness is  the  foundation  of  happiness.  What  excuse 
can  any  parent  plead  who  has  not  given  his  child  the 
ecstasy  of  earning  approval,  of  feeling  his  usefulness 
to  the  world,  of  glimpsing  the  larger  fields  of  useful- 
ness toward  which  his  eager  feet  may  press? 

There's  the  crux  of  the  thousands  of  cases  which 
Myrtle  typifies !  Lack  of  systematized  industry  in 
which  girls  can  take  an  interest  and  which,  by  its  regu- 
lating influence,  may  hold  in  check  propensities  to 
overleap  the  bounds.  That  is  why  the  household,  the 
home,  directly  contributes  more  than  twice  as  many 
female  offenders  as  all  the  new  industrial  pursuits  to- 
gether; because,  when  a  girl  gets  under  the  discipli- 
nary influence  of  the  world  of  work,  of  usefulness,  she 
loses  a  very  great  deal  of  whatever  liability  she  may 
have  had  to  become  a  lawbreaker.  Even  in  condi- 
tions like  Tina's,  she  is  less  likely  to  go  wrong  if  she 
works  in  a  factory  than  if  she  stays  at  home.  It  is 
the  home,  deficient  in  industry  or  in  leisure,  that 
wrecks  Myrtle  and  Tina. 


IV 
THE  INDICTMENT  OF  THE  HOME 

0 

A)ULL  session  of  the  Women's  Night  Court,  in 
New  York,  was  wearing  on  toward  midnight. 
Since  eight  o'clock,  there  had  been  little  va- 
riety in  the  deplorable  procession  that  filed  past  the 
magistrate :  one  wretched,  tawdry,  and  apparently  un- 
moved girl  after  another  denied  the  charge  of  the 
officer  who  had  arrested  her;  and  some  were  fined, 
some  were  given  sentences,  a  few  were  put  on  proba- 
tion to  Alice  Smith,  the  strong  and  gentle  woman 
who  knows  more  about  erring  girls,  perhaps,  than 
any  one  else  in  the  world. 

Any  one  of  these  cases  would  be  a  heart-breaking 
tragedy  if  the  facts  about  it  could  be  known.  But 
the  facts  are  usually  undiscoverable.  Nothing  is  cer- 
tain about  the  girls  except  that  they  are  lying,  and 
will  continue  to  lie.  One  might  easily  pardon  the 
poor  creatures  for  not  understanding  that  the  Law 
would  be  able  to  deal  more  intelligently  and  more 
mercifully  by  them  if  they  could  be  induced  to  tell 
the  truth.  But  one  finds  it  hard  not  to  lose  patience 
with  them  when,  knowing  perfectly  well — as  they  do 
— that  finger-print  evidence  of  their  previous  convic- 
tions is  on  file  in  an  adjoining  room  and  will  infallibly 

90 


PQ      +- 


w   ^ 

E 
H 


THE  INDICTMENT  OF  THE  HOME       91 

be  brought  into  refutation  of  their  statements,  they 
stand  stolidly  before  their  judge  and  swear  that  they 
have  never  been  arrested  before. 

Hour  after  hour,  with  little  variation,  these  cases 
continue,  night  after  night,  year  in  and  year  out.  The 
futility,  the  hopelessness  of  it  weigh  like  a  pall  on 
magistrate  and  assistants,  and  on  the  sentient  spec- 
tator. It  is  a  dreadful  clinic  to  which  few  come  until 
they  are  incurably  diseased.  That  is  why  the  grind- 
ing of  the  mill  grows  dull.  Despair  is  in  every  heart, 
from  that  of  the  judge,  raging  against  his  ineffective- 
ness, to  that  of  the  most  wretched  girl,  sullenly  resent- 
ful of  this  interference  with  what  she  considers  her 
personal  rights,  and  that  of  the  soul-sick  onlooker 
who  feels  himself  arraigned  with  the  rest  of  the  social 
order,  and  yet  doesn't  know  what  to  do  to  check  that 
dreadful  procession. 

On  that  particular  night  which  I'm  describing, 
there  had  been  little  variety,  as  usual,  in  the  cases 
called,  till  toward  midnight.  Then  a  girl  named  Lily 
was  arraigned.  Lily  had  been  arrested  on  complaint 
of  her  father.  She  was  over  sixteen,  so  her  case  was 
beyond  the  jurisdiction  of  the  Juvenile  Court;  but 
she  was  under  eighteen,  so  she  was  still  amenable  to  her 
father.  He  complained  that  she  stayed  away  from 
home ;  that  he  thought  she  was  "  going  to  the  bad  " ; 
that  he  could  do  nothing  with  her,  and  wanted  her  put 
under  restraint.  He  was  a  brutal-looking  little  man; 
bullet-headed,  cruel- jawed;  and  he  was  vindictive,  not 


92  THE  WORK-A-DAY  GIRL 

sorrowful,  in  mannef.  His  wife  was  called  to  the 
stand.  She  was  a  frightened  creature  who  kept  her 
fear- full  eyes  on  her  husband  rather  than  on  the  judge 
as  she  made  her  replies.  Once,  when  she  hesitated, 
a  threatening  glare  from  her  husband  caused  her  to 
go  on  quickly,  repeating  what  she  had  evidently  been 
ordered  to  say:  that  Lily  spent  a  good  part  of  her 
earnings  on  dress;  that  she  "  went  to  dances  with  an 
Eyetalian  ";  and  that  for  two  weeks  she  had  not  been 
home  at  all. 

Then  the  judge  questioned  Lily,  who  was  crying 
heart-brokenly.  She  was  a  slight  little  thing  who 
looked  to  be  hardly  more  than  sixteen.  Asked  why  she 
left  home,  she  said  because  her  father  beat  her  if  she 
did  not  "  give  in  "  all  her  earnings.  No  one  who  had 
seen  the  father  could  doubt  that. 

"  Where  do  you  live  now,  Lily?"  the  judge  asked. 

Lily  told  him :  at  a  rooming-house  on  the  East  Side. 

"Who  do  you  live  with?" 

"  With  a  girl— Violet." 

"  Violet  who  ?    What  is  the  rest  of  her  name?  " 

"  I  don't  know — just  Violet." 

"Where  did  you  meet  Violet?" 

"  To  a  dance." 

"  And  you  went  home  to  live  with  her  without 
knowing  even  her  last  name?  " 

Lily's  blue  eyes  opened  wide  in  surprise  at  such  a 
question. 

"  Why,  sure ! "  she  answered. 


THE  INDICTMENT  OF  THE  HOME       93 

"  How  much  do  you  make,  Lily  ?  " 

"  About  six  a  week." 

"  Where  ?" 

"  In  a  fact'ry." 

"What  factory?" 

Again  the  surprised  look. 

"  Why,  dif'rent  fact'ries — anywheres." 

The  judge  conferred  with  Alice  Smith.  Lily's  case 
was  held  over  for  a  half -hour  or  so,  until  Miss  Smith 
could  talk  with  the  parents  and  with  the  terrified  child. 

When  it  was  re-called,  the  judge  said,  sadly : 

"  Lily,  I'm  afraid  I  shall  have  to  send  you  away  for 
a  little  while,  where  you  can  learn  how  to  take  care 
of  yourself.  I'll  have  to  send  you  to  the  House  of 
the  Good  Shepherd " 

There  was  a  scream  of  anguish  from  Lily  that  made 
every  heart  in  the  courtroom  stand  still.  If  the  child 
had  been  on  the  torture-rack  of  ages  we  condescend- 
ingly call  "  Dark,"  she  could  not  have  cried  out  in 
greater  agony. 

"  Oh,  Mamma !  Mamma !  "  she  implored.  "  Don't 
let  them  send  me  away.  Mamma!  Mamma!  " 

The  judge  looked  as  if  he  would  gladly  exchange 
his  job  for  that  of  any  care-free  street-cleaner.  Alice 
Smith's  face  was  a  study  in  indignation  and  compas- 
sion. The  spectators  showed  varying  signs  of  dis- 
tress, nearly  all  acute.  And  as  Lily  was  led  away, 
doors  had  to  be  closed  behind  her,  that  her  cries — 
rising  above  the  roar  of  the  Elevated  and  the  rattle 


94  THE  WORK-A-DAY  GIRL 

of  trolley  cars — might  not  drown  the  hearing  of  the 
next  case. 

Only  Lily's  father  was  unmoved,  and  apparently 
satisfied.  Her  mother  wept  convulsively,  despite  the 
threatening  glare  of  the  bullet-headed  little  brute  who 
hustled  her  out  of  the  courtroom.  Nearly  every  one 
else  was  bordering  on  actual  physical  sickness :  the 
nausea  that  comes  to  the  witnesses  of  torture. 

"  But  what,"  said  Alice  Smith,  sadly  discussing  the 
case,  "  could  be  done  ?  Lily  hasn't  good  judgment 
enough  to  be  living  alone;  and  nothing  could  be  so 
bad  for  her  as  to  send  her  back  to  her  home.  Lily 
ought  not  to  be  in  a  correctional  home ;  she  ought  not 
to  be  '  shut  away '  from  her  world ;  she  ought  to  be 
guided,  and  guarded,  and  taught  to  understand.  But 
there  are  so  few  places  for  the  poor  little  Lilys.  The 
world  will  never  make  up,  to  most  of  them,  what  their 
parents  have  caused  them  to  suffer." 

This  is  the  prevailing  impression,  now,  among  stu- 
dents of  the  Juvenile  Court  system,  where  cases  like 
Lily's  are  the  regular  order  of  every  court  day.  The 
feeling  has  been  growing,  for  some  time,  that  the 
homes  of  delinquent  children  are,  in  many,  many 
cases,  the  last  places  in  the  world  to  which  the  children 
should  be  remanded  with  any  hope  of  their  reform. 
For  three  years,  the  Social  Investigation  Department 
of  the  Chicago  School  of  Civics  and  Philanthropy, 
aided  by  the  Russell  Sage  Foundation,  has  been  gath- 
ering and  compiling  data  concerning  the  family  condi- 


THE  INDICTMENT  OF  THE  HOME       95 

tions  of  children  brought  before  the  Chicago  Juvenile 
Court. 

The  records  of  ten  years  have  been  used  as  a  basis, 
and  a  corps  of  trained  investigators  has  probed,  as 
deeply  as  persistent  effort  could  make  possible,  into 
the  vital  facts  about  those  cases  which  could  be  traced. 

1  quote  from  the  proof-sheets  of  this  volume,  which 
will   probably  have  been   published   before  mine   is. 
With  the  many  problems  presented  by  the  delinquent 
boy  it  is  not  possible  to  deal  here.    This  is  a  brief  con- 
sideration of  the  delinquent  girl  as  a  direct  product 
of  the  home. 

More  than  half  of  the  boys  who  come  into  the 
Juvenile  Court  are  charged  with  offences  which  may 
be  grouped  as  violations  of  property  rights.  This 
means,  in  the  case  of  boys,  window-breaking  as  well 
as  stealing  coal  from  the  railroads,  fence-burning  as 
well  as  cutting  lead-pipe  out  of  empty  houses;  and  so 
on.  In  the  case  of  girls,  only  15  per  cent,  of  whom 
are  charged  with  violation  of  property  rights,  it  prac- 
tically always  means  stealing,  and  nearly  always  the 
theft  of  wearing  apparel  or  of  money  to  buy  it  with. 

More  than  80  per  cent,  of  the  girls  come  into  court 
on  charges  of  immorality;  "because  their  virtue  is  in 
peril,  if  indeed  it  has  not  been  already  lost."  Only 

2  per  cent,  of  the  boys  are  charged  with  immorality. 
More  than  half  of  the  girls  brought  to  court  are 

committed  to  institutions;  because,  as  the  report  says, 
"  the  girl  is  not  brought  into  court  until  her  environ- 


96  THE  WORK-A-DAY  GIRL 

ment  has  proved  too  dangerous  to  be  rendered  safe 
by  the  services  of  the  probation  officer.  She  is  in 
peril  which  threatens  the  ruin  of  her  whole  life,  and 
the  situation  demands  immediate  action;  her  only 
hope  of  rescue  seems  to  lie  in  prompt  removal  from 
her  old  surroundings  and  associates." 

Now,  in  connection  with  these  statements,  I  ask 
you  to  consider  some  of  the  recent  findings  of  the 
Government  investigation  into  the  Relation  Between 
Occupation  and  Criminality  of  Women. 

There  seemed  to  be  a  widely  prevailing  idea  that 
modern  industrial  conditions,  which  take  girls  and 
women  out  of  the  home,  are  responsible  for  a  great 
increase  in  criminality  and  immorality.  The  Govern- 
ment investigation  shows  that  exactly  the  reverse  is 
true.  The  traditional  pursuits  of  women — housework, 
sewing,  laundry  work,  nursing,  and  the  keeping  of 
boarders — furnish  more  than  four-fifths  of  all  the 
female  criminals,  compared  with  only  about  one-tenth 
furnished  by  all  the  newer  pursuits,  including  mills, 
factories,  shops,  offices,  and  the  professions !  And  the 
number  of  criminals  who  have  never  been  wage-earn- 
ers in  any  pursuit,  but  who  come  directly  from  their 
own  homes  into  the  courts  and  penal  institutions,  is 
more  than  twice  as  large  as  that  coming  from  all  the 
newer  industrial  pursuits  together. 

The  Chicago  investigators  gathered  vital  statistics 
concerning  the  occupations  of  310  girls  committed 
to  the  State  Training  School  at  Geneva.  53  of 


THE  INDICTMENT  OF  THE  HOME       97 

these  girls  had  never  worked;  76  either  could  not 
or  would  not  tell  anything  about  their  occupations 
(the  Government  Report  says :  "It  is  not  uncommon 
to  find  a  girl  who  has  been  at  work  for  a  few  years 
who  is  really  unable  to  give  any  coherent  account  of 
her  industrial  career;  she  has  been  into  and  out  of 
so  many  places  that  she  cannot  if  she  would  tell  just 
what  they  have  been"),  115  had  been  domestic  serv- 
ants, 23  had  been  waitresses,  and  the  small  remainder 
had  been  in  offices,  stores,  and  factories. 

The  Government  found  that  nearly  three-fourths 
of  the  women  criminals  come  from  among  domestic 
servants  and  waitresses,  although  less  than  one-fourth 
of  our  gainfully  employed  girls  and  women  are  in 
those  two  occupations.  They  had  more  than  three 
times  their  proper  proportion  of  offenders;  and  the 
cash  girls,  saleswomen,  bookkeepers,  stenographers, 
telephone  and  telegraph  operators  had  less  than  one- 
third  of  their  "  fair  share  "  among  the  wrongdoers. 

I  might  go  on  and  on,  multiplying  evidence  in  care- 
fully collected  figures.  But  I  am  sure  these  are 
enough  Tor  our  purpose — which  is  to  show  that  the 
unintelligently  directed  home  is  giving  the  powers  of 
Law  and  Order  more  grievous  concern  than  any  other 
agency  in  American  life  to-day;  and  that,  so  far  as 
our  girls  are  concerned,  the  greatest  safeguarding  a 
very  great  many  of  them  get  is  what  they  get  in  the 
disciplinary  training  of  the  industrial  world. 

What  is  the  relation  between  domestic  service  and 


98  THE  WORK-A-DAY  GIRL 

criminality  and  immorality?  Between  erring  girls 
and  their  own  homes  as  nurseries  of  weakness  and 
wilfulness?  It  is  this:  housework,  as  a  sad  majority 
of  women  perform  it,  is  the  most  unsystematized,  un- 
standardized,  undisciplinary,  unsocial,  and  uninterest- 
ing work  in  the  world.  And  family  relations,  as  a 
sad  majority  of  our  citizens  comprehend  them,  are 
the  most  unregulated  relations  in  the  world  to-day; 
there  are  a  few  standards  below  which  the  social  con- 
science of  the  community  will  not  allow  a  parent  to 
fall  in  the  treatment  of  a  child,  or  a  mistress  to  fall 
in  the  treatment  of  a  maid;  but  they  are  standards 
so  low  that  almost  any  other  human  relationship  is 
better  regulated  by  law  and  by  public  sentiment. 
The  home  is  the  most  haphazard  institution  of  our 
day. 

Not  your  home,  in  all  probability;  nor  even,  per- 
haps, the  majority  of  homes  you  know.  But  of  the 
twelve  or  fifteen  million  homes  in  the  country,  prob- 
ably not  one  million  would  pass  an  efficiency  test  based 
on  the  way  they  are  run  and  the  quality  of  their 
output. 

Years  ago,  every  home  was  a  factory  where  many 
things  were  made — everything  that  was  needful  to 
sustain  life  for  its  family-group.  To-day,  nearly 
every  branch  of  what  used  to  be  household  labour  has 
been  taken  out  of  the  home,  put  into  a  specializing  fac- 
tory, and  standardized.  Homes  now  have  but  one 
product:  citizens!  And  every  year,  the  State  has 


THE  INDICTMENT  OF  THE  HOME       99 

to  take  more  and  more  spoiled  and  spoiling  products 
out  of  slipshod,  ignorant,  ill-governed  homes,  and  try 
to  repair  or  reform  them  in  citizenship  factories :  in- 
dustrial and  parental  schools,  asylums,  refuges,  and 
prisons. 

There  is  no  other  product  comparable  in  importance 
with  the  product  of  the  home.  And  every  home  that 
unloads  a  poor  or  bad  product  upon  the  community 
lowers  the  average  of  the  whole,  and  complicates  the 
problems  of  those  who  are  earnestly  and  intelligently 
doing  their  full  duty.  That  is  why  you  women  whose 
homes  are  not  under  indictment  must  help  to  solve 
the  problem  of  what's  to  be  done  with  the  women  who 
are  unloading  spoiled  human  product  on  the  nation 
far  faster  than  you  are  able  to  bring  your  chil- 
dren to  your  high  standard  of  efficiency  and  useful- 
ness. 

The  plain  truth  about  a  child  is  that  it  is  not  a 
possession,  but  a  trust :  a  citizen  of  the  world,  to  be 
prepared  for  life  in  the  world.  And  the  plain  truth 
about  a  home  is  that  it  is  a  place  where  persons  are 
rested  and  refreshed  after  sharing  in  the  world's 
work,  and  made  more  efficient  for  re-entering  upon 
it  each  day. 

But  how  many  of  our  hundred  millions  accept  these 
truths  and  live  by  them? 

The  mother  of  Lily,  for  instance,  is  not  at  all  im- 
probably a  "  home-finisher,"  one  of  the  tens  of  thou- 
sands of  women  in  New  York  City  who  go  to  factories 


100  THE  WORK-A-DAY  GIRL 

and  get  bundles  of  partially  prepared  work  which  they 
carry  home,  perhaps  to  finish,  perhaps  only  to  add  one 
process  of  manufacture.  Bullet-headed  brutes  like 
Lily's  father  incline  to  despotize  in  inverse  ratio  to 
their  industry  and  earning  ability;  usually  their  wives 
as  well  as  their  children  are  made  to  work  for  them. 
Imagine,  then,  the  mother  of  Lily  to  be  a  finisher  of 
men's  pants,  at  which  she  may  earn  as  much  as  five 
cents  an  hour  if  she  has  one  of  her  children  to  help 
her.  If  she  gets  her  work  from  a  shop  that  makes 
any  effort  to  obey  the  law,  she  has  first  to  show  a  card 
indicating  that  her  living  conditions  have  been  in- 
spected by  the  State  authorities  and  pronounced  fairly 
sanitary;  if  any  member  of  her  household  or  other 
dweller  in  her  tenement  contracts  a  contagious  or  in- 
fectious disease,  she  violates  the  law  if  she  finishes 
pants  under  such  conditions;  if  she  takes  her  work  to 
the  factory  and  it  is  not  up  to  the  standard,  she  must 
do  it  over  again;  if  she  has  spoiled  the  material,  she 
must  pay  for  it.  Home-finishing  is  the  worst-regu- 
lated of  all  industries,  but,  even  at  that,  Lily's  mother 
almost  certainly  finds  the  regulations  about  finishing 
pants  more  exacting  than  the  regulations  governing 
conditions  in  which  she  may  rear  Lily.  When  she 
has  spoiled  Lily,  or  suffered  Lily  to  be  spoiled  by  her 
father's  brutality  and  tyranny,  we  take  Lily  away, 
and  ask  the  Sisters  of  the  Good  Shepherd  to  patch  up 
the  botched  job  if  they  can.  But  even  this  we  do,  not 
of  our  own  initiative,  because  we  are  fearful  for  Lily's 


THE  INDICTMENT  OF  THE  HOME     101 

safety;  but  on  complaint  of  her  father,  because  he  is 
being  defrauded  of  Lily's  earnings. 

The  Juvenile  Courts  and  Juvenile  Protective  Asso- 
ciations show  our  disposition  to  interfere  on  behalf  of 
some  children  who  are  being  badly  dealt  by.  But  they 
have  shown  us,  also,  that  we  are  poorly  equipped  with 
proper  kinds  of  institutions  to  care  for  children 
whom  we  must  take  away  from  their  parents ;  and  also 
that  it  is  at  best  a  sorry  business  when  a  child  must 
be  segregated  from  the  world  it  should  be  taught  to 
live  in :  the  world  of  home,  of  play,  of  industry. 

A  child  who  cannot  observe  family  life  is  being 
poorly  equipped  to  create  and  sustain  family  life. 
Before  we  go  further  than  the  most  urgent  necessity 
demands,  in  taking  out  of  these  homes  like  Lily's  their 
last  and  greatest  labour,  let  us  see  if  something  cannot 
be  done  to  standardize  the  conditions  under  which 
parents  may  be  allowed  to  bear  and  to  rear  children, 
as  well,  even,  as  we  have  attempted  to  standardize 
those  under  which  they  may  finish  pants. 

Here  is  work  for  you  women  who  read  this;  you 
women  who  write  me  the  fine,  eager  letters,  saying: 
"  I  want  to  help.  What  can  I  do?  " 

Some  few  of  you  are  now  voting.  In  a  little  while 
we  shall  all  be  voting — voting,  not  a  party  ticket,  as  a 
majority  of  men  have  voted,  but  for  a  specific  princi- 
ple, a  specific  benefit.  The  suffrages  of  this  nation 
have  too  long  been  cast  each  in  the  self-interest  of 
the  voter.  With  your  advent  into  law-making  and 


102  THE  WORK-A-DAY  GIRL 

law-enactment,  will  come  either  a  tremendous  new 
spirit  or  a  tremendous  impetus  to  an  old  one.  And 
one  of  the  first  of  the  great  problems  to  which  you 
direct  yourselves  will  concern  Lily  and  her  ma — 
millions  of  Lilys  and  their  ma's.  For  they  also  will 
hold  suffrages.  And  in  their  ignorance,  their  fear, 
their  complete  unenlightenment,  they  will  cast  those 
suffrages  against  your  most  spirited  and  splendid 
effort  to  improve  their  condition,  to  make  the  home  a 
safe  and  sane  nursery  for  citizens. 

I  entreat  you  to  begin  now  on  Lily  and  her  ma. 
I  ask  you  to  do  your  utmost  now  to  guard  against 
their  votes  nullifying  yours.  I  beg  you  to  start  now 
upon  your  study  of  their  needs,  so  that  you  may  be 
ready  when  the  time  comes  for  you  to  say  what  social 
and  economic  and  legislative  changes  must  be  wrought 
for  them.  You  may  believe  that  Lily  and  her  house- 
hold need  your  vote,  or  you  may  not;  but  you  cannot 
believe  other  than  that  they  need  you.  Much  of  all 
that  must  be  done  for  them  cannot  be  done  by  public 
processes,  at  least  until  those  processes  are  more 
adaptable  than  they  are  now;  and  if  they  are  ever  to 
be  more  adaptable,  you  must  point  the  way. 

I  ask  every  honest,  earnest  woman  to  undertake 
one  family  as  a  study.  None  of  you  will  have  to  look 
very  far.  If  you  can  find  a  family  with  whom  you 
have  some  sort  of  economic  relations,  so  much  the 
better.  "  Sound  "  the  womati  who  does  your  wash- 
ing; feel  your  way  into  the  confidence  of  the  butter- 


THE  INDICTMENT  OF  THE  HOME     103 

and-egg  man,  the  grocery  boy,  the  scissors-grinder, 
the  milkman,  the  janitor,  the  iceman,  the  remover  of 
garbage,  or  the  purveyor  of  vegetables  and  fruits. 
Every  woman  has  a  "  back-door  world  "  which  might 
well  engross  her.  If  the  tailor  who  presses  your  hus- 
band's clothes  had  a  daughter  like  Lily,  would  you 
know  it?  If  the  man  who  exchanges  you  new  pots 
and  kettles  for  old  garments  and  shoes  was  a  brutal 
husband,  a  cruel  and  neglectful  father,  would  you 
know  how  he  could  be  legally  restrained?  If  your 
"  odd-jobs  man  "  had  a  drunken  and  vicious  wife  who 
was  letting  her  little  girl  grow  up  to  be  like  her,  would 
you  know  what  you  could  do  about  it? 

The  work  of  maintaining  an  efficient  home  of  your 
own  probably  leaves  you  with  leisure  either  scant  or 
indeterminable  in  advance.  You  sigh,  sometimes,  be- 
cause so  many  of  the  "  big  "  endeavours  are  beyond 
your  reach. 

I  wish  you  might  spend  even  a  single  hour,  on  any 
ordinary  evening,  in  some  such  whirlpool  of  big  en- 
deavours as,  say,  Hull  House.  You  would  find  it  to 
be  nothing  more  than  an  amplification  of  your 
"  back-door  world.'*  Hundreds  of  people  come  and 
go;  they  bring  problems,  and  they  take  away  counsel. 
Sometimes  there  is  a  known  remedy  for  their  trouble ; 
sometimes  the  need  they  present  demands  a  new  sort 
of  relief — legal  or  economic  or  social — and  the  resi- 
dents, when  they  feel  this  demand,  set  about  whatever 
agitation  is  necessary  for  its  fulfilment. 


104  THE  WORK-A-DAY  GIRL 

You  can  run  a  Social  Settlement  of  your  own,  at 
your  back-door,  no  matter  where  the  back-door  may 
be.  You  can  learn  what  conditions  are  in  your  own 
immediate  bailiwick ;  and  you  can  discover  what  reme- 
dial possibilities  exist,  what  others  must  be  created. 
I  have  done  this  for*a  dozen  years;  and  I  know! 

Begin  with  one  family.  First  step  of  all,  divest 
your  mind  of  any  lingering  traces  of  the  notion  that 
Social  Service  consists  in  the  giving  away  of  things 
you  don't  want.  It  consists  in  helping  people  to  know 
their  rights  and  to  get  them;  to  know  their  obligations 
and  to  discharge  them. 

Let  us  suppose,  for  the  sake  of  illustration,  that 
instead  of  sighing  over  the  piteousness  of  Lily's  story, 
and  wishing  you  lived  nearer  to  the  Night  Court  and 
could  do  something  for  that  particular  girl,  you  have 
sympathetically  investigated  your  own  immediate  sur- 
roundings and  discovered  another  Lily — as  any 
woman  only  too  infallibly  may,  if  she  will  look! 

Consider  the  questions  you  are  confronted  with: 
What  are  the  laws  of  your  State  regarding  a  father's 
rights  in  the  earnings  of  his  wife  and  children?  Are 
they  just?  What  proportion  of  girls  like  Lily  are 
probably  required  to  hand  over  unopened  pay  en- 
velopes ?  How  many  of  them  are  getting  a  fair  deal  ? 
How  many  are  being  taxed  beyond  their  moral 
strength?  How  common  is  it  for  girls  like  Lily  to 
drift  into  and  out  of  nondescript  employments,  gath- 
ering no  jot  of  efficiency  as  they  go?  What  ought  to 


THE  INDICTMENT  OF  THE  HOME     105 

be  done  to  prepare  such  girls  for  self-support?  What 
ought  to  be  done  to  protect  them  from  moral  dangers  ? 
To  fit  them  for  probable  matrimony  and  motherhood  ? 
How  much  does  the  State  save  when  it  allows  Lily's 
ma  to  toil  as  a  pants-finisher,  and  pays  the  Sisters  of 
the  Good  Shepherd  to  take  care  of  Lily?  Why  is 
Lily's  mother  in  such  abject  terror  of  her  husband? 
Does  she  know  that  he  can  be  restrained  from  abusing 
her  and  Lily?  If  Lily  were  to  be  sent  home  instead 
of  to  the  House  of  the  Good  Shepherd,  what  oppor- 
tunities for  a  wholesome  social  life  would  she  have  in 
their  tenement  ?  What  "  advisable "  pastimes  are 
open  to  Lily?  Where  is  she  to  meet  young  men? 
Who  is  to  safeguard  those  meetings?  Lily  is  one  of 
the  mothers  of  to-morrow — probably.  What  is  any- 
body doing  to  help  her  make  a  desirable  marriage,  or 
to  insure  that  she  will  become  a  better  parent  than 
hers  have  been? 

I  could  go  on  and  on  and  on.  There  is  literally 
no  end  to  the  questions  that  Lily  raises,  to  the  prob- 
lems that  she  presents.  So  far,  the  world  that  Lily 
was  called  into  has  not  given  her  a  fighting  chance. 
When  you  have  fairly  begun  on  her  case,  her  day  of 
hope  will  have  dawned. 

Don't  switch  off;  don't  sidetrack;  don't  lose  heart; 
keep  after  Lily.  It  may  be  all  the  better  if  you 
haven't  a  cent  to  give  her ;  charity  is  a  poor  substitute 
for  justice.  If  you  can  effect  any  actual  betterment 
in  Lily's  home,  any  improvement  in  her  outlook,  you 


106  THE  WORK-A-DAY  GIRL 

are  to  be  envied  the  happiness  that  will  give  you.  But 
even  if  you  can't  do  that,  you  can  at  least  learn  from 
that  home  a  hundred  lessons,  get  from  it  a  new  under- 
standing of  our  complex  social  relationships.  Do  for 
it  what  you  can;  but  don't  be  dismayed  if  this  does 
not  seem  to  you  to  be  considerable,  or  productive  of 
results.  Remember  that  the  wrong  conditions  which 
made  that  home  possible  (if  not  inevitable)  have  been 
of  long,  slow  growth.  You  cannot  hope  to  change 
them  in  one  onslaught — nor  in  a  hundred.  Rest  con- 
tent with  having  got  to  the  root  of  great  matters  when 
you  have  got  to  the  study  of  home  conditions  that  are 
responsible  for  the  production  of  spoiled  and  socially- 
dangerous  humans. 

If  most  men  have  been  selfish  in  public  affairs;  if 
they  have  sought  only  such  government  as  would  fur- 
ther their  own  interests;  so  have  most  women  been 
selfish  in  the  affairs  of  their  Kingdom.  The  day  of 
social  blindness  is  passing.  We  know,  now,  that  self- 
interest  is  suicidal  except  it  keep  in  line  with  com- 
munity-interest. There  cannot  be  a  law  which  is  good 
for  your  husband's  business  and  bad  for  the  business 
of  his  competitors.  There  cannot  be  safety  for  your 
home  and  your  children,  while  millions  of  other  homes 
are  disgorging  a  stunted  and  misdirected  output. 

You  are  the  wise  woman  who  looketh  well  to  the 
ways  of  her  own  household.  But  some  of  you,  surely, 
have  wisdom  for  that,  and  to  spare.  Won't  you  spare 
a  measure  of  it  for  Lily's  household? 


V 

HER  DAILY  BREAD 

EUGENIA    did    not    "suddenly    find    herself 
obliged  to  seek  a  livelihood,"  like  the  story- 
heroines  of  two  and  three  decades  ago.     No 
"  crash  came  "  in  her  family  affairs.     Her  father  did 
not  die,  their  investments  did  not  "  prove  worthless  "; 
it  was  not  necessary  to  raise  the  mortgage — because 
they  had  no  mortgage  to  raise. 

She  was  eighteen  years  old  and  had  graduated 
from  high  school.  There  were  three  younger  chil- 
dren. Her  father  was  a  small-salaried  man  who 
earned  no  more  now  than  he  had  earned  when  Eu- 
genia was  a  baby ;  and  there  was  no  human  probability 
that  he  would  ever  earn  any  more.  He  carried  two 
thousand  dollars'  worth  of  insurance,  which  would 
yield  them  almost  two  dollars  a  week  if  he  should  die. 
He  had  no  savings.  The  cost  of  living  was  going 
up  by  leaps  and  bounds.  The  needs  of  four  children 
between  the  ages  of  twelve  and  eighteen  were  a  great 
deal  harder  to  meet  than  the  needs  of  the  same  four 
had  been  when  they  were  little.  Young  people  in  their 
'teens  presented  new  demands — very  just  demands, 
too — which  went  beyond  the  filling  of  their  stomachs 
and  the  covering  of  their  feet  and  backs  and  heads. 

107 


108  THE  WORK-A-DAY  GIRL 

There  were  a  score  of  reasons  why  Eugenia  should 
go  to  work.  She  was  perfectly  aware  of  them,  and 
for  at  least  five  years  she  had  looked  forward  to  the 
day  when  she  might  be  able  to  "  do  something  "  about 
the  eternal  problems  of  the  family  budget,  "  instead 
of  just  lamenting."  That  she  should  lend  a  helping 
hand,  when  she  could,  seemed  quite  as  inevitable  to 
her  as  if  she  had  been  a  boy.  There  was  not  nearly 
enough  work  in  the  home  to  keep  three  pairs  of  hands 
busy;  and  even  if  there  had  been,  there  was  no  further 
possibility  in  that  household  of  earning  a  dollar  by 
saving  one.  They  had  reached  "  rock  bottom "  on 
that,  years  ago. 

Eugenia  must  sell  her  labour  where  labour  brought 
a  price.  And  she  faced  this  necessity  far  from  reluc- 
tantly. She  was  generously  eager  to  help.  She  had 
a  sturdy  desire  to  do  for  herself — to  be  adequate  to  her 
own  support  and  able  to  gratify  some  of  her  long- 
repressed  desires.  And  she  loved  the  adventure  of  it. 
There  is  no  reason  in  the  world  why  every  young  soul 
should  not  crave  the  adventure  of  seeking  its  fortune; 
or,  rather,  of  making  it.  And  they  all  would  crave  it, 
as  fledglings  demand  to  learn  the  joy  of  flight,  if  we 
did  not  warp  and  twist  their  natural  desires  with  our 
false  social  ideals  and  our  false  education. 

Eugenia  hailed  the  opportunity  of  going  to  work, 
and  as  there  seemed  no  place  for  her  in  their  small 
home  town,  she  went  to  the  nearest  big  city. 

No  one  at  school  had  ever  inquired  of  Eugenia  as 


HER  DAILY  BREAD  109 

to  her  purposes.  No  one  seemed  to  feel  that  it  made 
any  difference  whether  her  twelve  years  of  schooling 
had  or  had  not  a  definite  aim ;  whether  it  left  her  with 
some  specific  ability  or  with  only  the  vaguest  notions 
of  its  adaptability  to  the  world's  needs. 

It  happened,  however,  that — their  town  being  too 
small  to  support  a  business  school — there  was  a  de- 
mand for  instruction  in  stenography  and  typewriting, 
and  a  course  was  instituted  in  the  high  school. 
Eugenia  took  it.  So  did  a  great  many  other  girls 
who  were  similarly  circumstanced — so  many  that 
there  were  a  dozen  applicants  for  each  stenographic 
job  in  town;  and  as  a  consequence,  some  girls  worked 
for  $2.50  a  week,  while  $3.50  and  $4.00  were  excep- 
tional salaries  for  the  inexperienced. 

Eugenia  decided  to  go  to  the  city.  Her  parents 
were  a  little  apprehensive  over  this  venture;  but 
Eugenia  had  a  lot  of  good  sense  and  good  principle, 
and  they  specially  fortified  her  as  well  as  they  were 
able,  with  warnings  against  such  dangers  as  they 
knew  of. 

She  must  go  to  the  Young  Women's  Christian 
Association;  she  must  avoid  making  chance  acquaint- 
ances; she  must  be  careful  what  places  of  amusement 
she  attended.  These  were  the  principal  burden  of 
the  parental  charges ;  the  school  gave  her  no  warnings 
or  suggestions  of  any  sort. 

She  went  to  the  Association  House,  or  Home.  She 
found  that  if  she  shared  a  room  with  another  girl — the 


110  THE  WORK-A-DAY  GIRL 

cheapest  room  in  the  house — she  could  board  there 
for  $4.00  a  week.  She  found  that  the  labour  market 
was  glutted  with  inexperienced  stenographers  eager  to 
work  for  $5  and  $6  a  week.  She  found  the  general, 
almost  the  universal  attitude,  toward  her  to  be :  "  You 
ought  not  to  have  come  here." 

Half-a-dozen  employers  to  whom  the  Association 
sent  her  refused  to  take  her  because  she  did  not  live 
at  home. 

"  We  can  get  beginners  at  $6.00,"  they  said.  "  But 
$6.00  will  not  keep  you.  We  make  it  a  rule  not  to 
hire  for  less  than  $8  girls  who  do  not  live  at  home. 
You  would  not  be  worth  $8  to  us.  Sorry !  " 

Eugenia  reported  this  at  the  Association  employ- 
ment office,  and  was  told  that  the  employers  were 
quite  right.  There  was  a  decided  opinion  in  that  of- 
fice that  inexperienced  girls  should  not  come  flocking 
into  cities,  hoping  to  live  on  what  they  could  earn. 

"  What  are  we  to  do  ?  "  Eugenia  cried.  "  There 
isn't  work  at  home  for  us  all.  What  are  we  to  do?  " 

The  head  of  the  employment  office  had  no  idea — 
except  that  the  girls  should  not  come.  She  was  be- 
sieged by  them,  and  every  day  it  was  getting  harder 
to  place  them. 

Eugenia  studied  the  Help  Wanted  columns.  It  was 
true  that  not  many  of  the  ads.  called  for  beginners. 
But  she  answered  the  few  that  did.  For  some  reason 
not  at  all  clear  to  her,  they  nearly  all  read :  "  Ad- 
dress, stating  full  particulars  and  salary  expected," 


HER  DAILY  BREAD  111 

So-and-So,  at  the  newspaper  office.  This  necessitated 
a  delay  of  at  least  two  days,  besides  giving  no  clue  to 
the  location  of  the  advertiser,  nor  to  the  nature  of 
his  business.  She  received  several  letters  asking  her 
to  call. 

It  did  not  occur  to  Eugenia  to  show  these  letters 
to  the  manager  of  the  Association  employment  office. 
She  was  a  little  resentful  of  that  lady's  attitude.  Nor 
is  it  at  all  certain  that,  if  she  had  shown  them,  any- 
thing would  have  resulted  save  perhaps  a  general 
counsel  to  "  be  careful/' 

Eugenia  did  not  know  that  it  was  necessary  to 
be  careful  in  seeking  employment.  All  the  adjura- 
tions with  which  she  was  familiar  had  to  do  with  the 
need  of  care  in  seeking  amusements  or  making  ac- 
quaintances. 

The  first  place  to  which  she  found  her  way  was  in 
one  of  the  older  and  dingier  office  buildings  of  a  dis- 
trict where  innumerable  "  skyscrapers  "  of  recent  erec- 
tion had  almost  emptied  the  old  structures  or  left  them 
to  a  precarious  class  of  tenants  who  could  not  take 
long  leases.  The  elevator  was  an  "  afterthought," 
put  in  when  the  building  was  no  longer  new.  The 
stairs  were  wooden.  The  halls  were  gloomy.  The 
air  was  heavy  and  bad. 

Eugenia  found  Room  52.  The  lettering  on  the 
door  said :  "  The  Union  Novelty  Co."  Inside  were 
two  men.  The  office  was  scantily  furnished.  There 
was  a  cheap  roll-top  desk  of  "  golden  oak  " ;  a  giant 


112  THE  WORK-A-DAY  GIRL 

cuspidor;  a  swivel  chair,  and  two  others  that  looked 
like  stray  members  of  an  erstwhile  dining-room  set. 
Smoking,  and  aiming  at  the  cuspidor,  seemed  to  be 
the  only  business  of  the  place;  and  while  the  smoke 
was  voluminous,  the  other  half  of  the  enterprise  evi- 
denced some  lack  of  expertness.  When  Eugenia  an- 
nounced her  errand,  the  man  in  the  swivel  chair  gave 
the  other  man  a  meaning  look.  When  the  door  had 
closed  on  the  retreating  one,  he  who  remained  faced 
Eugenia  with  a  grin. 

"  Si'  down,  Kiddo,"  he  urged,  nodding  at  the  chair 
just  vacated.  "  So  you're  a  green  one,  huh  ?  Just 
from  the  country,  ain't  you  ?  " 

Eugenia  was  uninstructed,  but  she  was  no  fool. 
Her  fear  of  this  man  was  as  instinctive  as  that  of 
any  wild  creature  for  one  of  its  natural  enemies.  All 
that  troubled  her  was  to  know  how  to  get  out. 

She  ignored  the  urging  to  "  si'  down." 

"I— I  don't  think  I'd  suit  you,"  she  faltered. 
"  You  see,  I  haven't  had  any  experience  at  all.  I 
ought  to  begin  in  a — in  a  place  where — where " 

She  floundered  hopelessly,  not  knowing  how  to 
make  a  polite  evasion. 

"  Oh,  that's  all  right ! "  he  encouraged.  "  I  can 
soon  learn  you  all  you  need  to  know." 

Something  in  his  manner  made  Eugenia  forget  her 
effort  to  be  polite.  She  backed  toward  the  door.  He 
rose  to  his  feet. 

Without  waiting  for  more  parley  than  if  he  had 


HER  DAILY  BREAD  US 

been  a  tiger  of  Bengal,  Eugenia  leaped  for  the  door, 
jerked  it  open,  and  fled.  When  she  got  to  the  elevator 
shaft,  the  antiquated  car  was  at  the  bottom.  Eugenia 
ran  down  one  flight  of  the  wooden  stairs.  Then, 
hearing  no  sounds  of  pursuit,  she  sat  down,  weak  and 
trembling.  It  was  some  minutes  before  she  could 
gather  strength  and  resolution  to  go  on. 

She  tried  to  reason  with  herself;  to  make  herself 
believe  that  a  dreadful  thing  like  that  might  not  hap- 
pen again  "ever — in  a  lifetime";  to  tell  herself  that 
she  must  be  "  plucky,"  and  not  easily  dismayed. 

The  next  place  she  tried  was  some  distance  from 
the  first.  (One  of  her  difficulties  was  that  she  did 
not  know  the  city,  and  could  not  "  group  "  her  applica- 
tions.) It  was  in  a  large  building  tenanted  by  many 
small  manufacturing  concerns.  The  one  she  sought 
was  "  The  Sovereign  Remedy  Co."  The  first  door 
on  which  she  found  this  read :  "  Private.  Entrance, 
Room  112."  In  Room  112  there  was  considerable 
and  varied  activity.  Two  girls,  neither  of  whom 
looked  to  be  more  than  sixteen,  were  seated  at  type- 
writers. One  of  them  was  half-engaged  with  her  ma- 
chine, which  she  used  awkwardly  and  unaccus- 
tomedly:  her  interest  was  obviously  not  in  what  she 
was  doing,  but  in  the  banter  being  exchanged  between 
the  other  girl  and  a  coatless,  vestless,  stoop-shoul- 
dered, narrow-chested,  anaemic-looking  youth,  who 
lolled  like  a  jelly-fish,  on  the  end  of  the  second  girl's 
desk.  At  one  table,  a  little  girl  with  short  dresses 


114*  THE  WORK-A-DAY  GIRL 

was  pasting  labels  on  bottles  containing  the  Sovereign 
Remedy,  and  at  another  table,  a  boy  was  painting  an 
address  upon  a  wooden  box  containing  one-half  gross 
of  bottles  of  the  Sovereign  Remedy.  In  a  corner 
was  a  roll-top  desk,  half-closed  down  over  a  disorderly 
litter  of  papers. 

Everybody  present  turned  an  inquiring — not  to 
say  an  inquisitorial — eye  upon  Eugenia. 

"  Is  the  manager  in  ?  "  she  asked. 

"  Nope,"  answered  the  anaemic  youth.  "  Wha' 
d'ye  want?" 

"  I  came  to  see  about  a  place — I  answered  the  ad- 
vertisement." 

Just  then,  the  door  behind  her  opened  and  the 
manager  came  in.  Eugenia  dreaded  being  inter- 
viewed in  the  hearing  of  these  "  guying  "  employes, 
almost  as  much  as  she  could  have  dreaded  another 
tete-a-tete;  but  she  rebuked  herself  sharply  for  her 
timidity,  and  tried  to  feel  that  she  was  adapting  her- 
self to  "  business  ways  "  when  she  answered  the  ques- 
tions which  he  "  fired  "  at  her  without  asking  her  to 
sit  down — likewise,  without  removing  his  hat  from 
his  head  or  his  cigar  from  the  corner  of  his  mouth. 
The  other  occupants  of  the  office  listened  more  at- 
tentively than  most  juries. 

Eugenia's  voice  shook;  but  she  tried  to  be  "  brave." 
She  had  her  reward.  She  was  engaged — to  replace 
the  bantering  young  person,  who  was  leaving  to  take 
an  eight-dollar  job. 


HER  DAILY  BREAD  115 

There  were  many  things  about  the  place  that  Eu- 
genia did  not  like — many  even  at  the  outset,  and  more 
as  she  got  to  know  it  better — but  she  told  herself  that 
she  must  not  be  "  silly."  She  wanted  experience; 
everybody  told  her  that  beginners  were  like  beggars 
in  that  they  also  could  not  be  "choosers";  and  "  at 
least "  this  place  was  "  safe,"  she  thought,  because 
there  were  so  many  employes.  (In  addition  to  the 
second  typist,  the  labeller,  the  office  boy,  the  anaemic 
youth,  and  herself,  there  were  two  girls,  also  very 
young  and  inexperienced,  who  worked  in  the  room 
marked  "  Private,"  under  the  casual  direction  of  the 
anaemic  youth,  compounding  the  Sovereign  Remedy.). 

Rendering  any  help  at  home  was  out  of  the  ques- 
tion on  six  dollars  a  week.  But  Eugenia  meant  to 
apply  herself  so  earnestly  that  she  would  not  have  to 
work  long  at  that  wage.  Her  first  concern  was  to 
"  make  good."  And  after  that,  she  was  not  a  little 
exercised  to  know  how  to  live  on  her  earnings. 

At  first,  she  paid  her  $4.00  a  week  and  stayed  at 
the  Association.  She  was  given  a  light  luncheon  to 
carry  with  her;  and  when  the  weather  was  good  she 
did  not  mind  walking  to  and  from  work,  a  mile  each 
way.  She  had  clothes  enough  to  do  her  for  a  while ; 
and  by  resisting  nearly  every  temptation  that  involved 
spending  a  nickel,  she  got  through,  somehow. 

But  as  the  fall  wore  on,  she  began  to  need  things. 
Her  shoes  were  nearly  "  impossible  " — they  had  long 
been  shabby ! — and  she  must  have  a  winter  coat,  and  a 


116  THE  WORK-A-DAY  GIRL 

pair  of  gloves,  and  some  overshoes,  and  a  makeshift 
of  some  sort  for  a  winter  hat. 

She  told  her  plight  at  the  Home.  And  she  was  re- 
minded of  what  they  had  warned  her  when  she  came : 
the  city  is  no  place  for  girls  without  homes,  who 
cannot  command  more  than  $6.00  a  week.  She  was 
advised  to  go  home  and  work  for  what  she  could  get 
there. 

"  I  could  earn  my  keep  at  home,"  she  reflected ; 
"  but  that  is  about  all — and  there  wouldn't  be  any 
prospect  of  doing  better.  I  may  have  it  hard  here, 
for  a  while;  but  when  I  can  earn  more,  there  are 
plenty  of  places  that  will  pay  it." 

So  she  stayed.  She  asked  to  be  directed  to  a 
cheaper  boarding-place,  and  was  given  the  addresses 
of  several  Homes  for  self-supporting  girls.  Some  of 
these  gave  board,  and  dormitory  lodging,  as  low  as 
$3.50  a  week.  But  they  were  all  full. 

Eugenia  decided  to  rent  a  furnished  room  and 
"  manage  "  her  eating  as  best  she  could.  Again  she 
had  recourse  to  the  ad.  columns,  and  spent  two  Sun- 
days in  disheartening  quest.  Any  room  that  she 
could  get,  even  for  two  dollars  a  week,  was  in  a  tene- 
ment. And  if  she  were  to  keep  the  cost  of  food 
down  to  the  same  amount,  or  less  than  thirty  cents  a 
day,  she  would  be  little  better  off  than  she  was  now, 
at  the  Association. 

After  trudging  weary  miles  in  what  seemed  an 
insanely  futile  quest,  Eugenia  grew  desperate.  She 


HER  DAILY  BREAD  117 

went  to  a  newspaper  office  and  handed  in  this 
"ad.": 

"  Board  Wanted : — By  a  young  girl  from  the  coun- 
try. Earns  only  $6.00  a  week,  and  must  live  for 
$3.50  at  most." 

It  cost  her  the  price  of  the  needed  overshoes;  but 
she  was  hopeful  that  it  would  lead  to  economy  in 
the  long  run. 

Her  replies  included  several  from  ladies  who  said 
that  they  had  "  lovely  "  homes,  but  that  their  husbands 
were  "  away  a  great  deal,"  and  they  would  be  "  more 
than  glad  "  to  have  a  young  lady  boarder  "  for  com- 
pany." 

This  seemed  perfectly  natural  to  Eugenia,  and  she 
discarded  in  favour  of  these  all  the  others — written, 
for  the  most  part,  in  cramped  penmanship  and  as 
cramped  language,  and  emanating  from  districts 
which  she  was  beginning  to  know  as  poor  and 
mean. 

The  first  "  lonesome  lady  "  she  called  upon  (it  was 
in  the  evening — Sunday  was  four  days  off)  seemed 
to  be  making  fair  feint  at  beguiling  her  desolation. 
Her  flat,  in  a  good  residence  section,  was  brightly 
lighted;  a  burst  of  ear-splitting  ragtime,  of  the 
"  canned  "  sort,  was  uninterrupted  by  Eugenia's  ring. 
A  coloured  maid  opened  the  door  and  summoned  her 
mistress  into  the  hall. 

"  Hello,  dearie ! "  the  mistress  cried,  as  if  Eugenia 
were  an  old  familiar  friend.  "  Got  my  note,  did  you  ? 


118  THE  WORK-A-DAY  GIRL 

Well,  some  o'  my  young  friends  are  tryin'  to  keep 
me  from  gettin'  blue.  Come  on  in." 

Eugenia  felt  timid  about  confronting  a  roomful 
of  laughing  strangers. 

"  I'll  come  again,  when  you  haven't  got  company," 
she  pleaded,  hanging  back. 

"Don't  be  a  goosie!"  she  was  adjured.  "You'll 
meet  them  sooner  or  later — and  it  might  as  well  be 
now.  They  want  to  see  my  new  boarder." 

So  Eugenia  followed  her  in.  The  young  people 
present,  four  in  number,  seemed  very  well  acquainted 
with  one  another,  and  with  their  hostess.  One  of  the 
young  men,  who  said  his  car  was  outside,  proposed 
a  ride,  and  invited  Eugenia  to  join  them.  She  was 
tempted.  The  thought  of  a  ride,  in  jolly  com- 
pany, was  an  attractive  alternative  to  going  home  and 
to  bed  in  the  cheerless  little  room  she  shared  with  a 
girl  whose  losing  fight  with  the  world  had  made  her 
morose.  But  she  had  not  notified  the  Association 
office  that  she  might  be  out  late.  It  was  nearly  nine 
o'clock  now. 

"  Thank  you — I  don't  believe  I  can — to-night,"  she 
murmured. 

"  You'll  ask  her  again,  when  she  comes  here 
to  keep  me  comp'ny;  won't  you?"  the  hostess 
said. 

And,  assured  that  he  would,  she  left  her  guests  and 
showed  Eugenia  the  room  that  was  to  be  hers. 

"  Where  are  you  stopping  now  ?  "  she  inquired. 


HER  DAILY  BREAD  119 

When  Eugenia  told  her,  a  peculiar  expression  came 
into  her  face. 

"  If  you  tell  'em  you're  comin'  to  live  with  me, 
they'll  prcb'ly  try  to  poison  you  against  me,"  she  said. 
"  I  got  my  opinion  o'  them  women — chargin'  such 
money  for  board  an'  callin'  it  charity — an'  I  told  'em 
so,  once.  They  got  it  in  for  me." 

"  I  don't  have  to  tell  them  where  I'm  going,"  Eu- 
genia declared,  with  a  flare  of  pride.  "  I'm  not  under 
any  obligations  to  them." 

"  That's  right,"  her  prospective  landlady  approved. 
"  Well,  will  you  move  to-morrow  ?  " 

Eugenia  said  she  would,  "  to-morrow  evening." 
She  had  a  vague  uneasiness  about  the  new  home,  but 
tried  to  tell  herself  that  she  was  getting  as  suspicious 
as  her  room-mate.  Of  course,  the  lady  she  was  going 
to  live  with  did  not  have  gay  company  every  evening ! 
If  she  did,  she  wouldn't  want  a  quiet  working  girl  to 
keep  her  from  "  getting  blue." 

Eugenia  began  packing  her  few  belongings  as  soon 
as  she  was  in  her  room.  There  was  no  time  in  the 
morning,  and  she  wanted  to  move  early  in  the  follow- 
ing evening.  Her  room-mate  was  not  there  when  she 
began  to  pack,  but  came  in  while  Eugenia  was  about 
her  preparations  for  bed.  She  knew  that  Eugenia 
was  looking  for  a  cheaper  place  to  live. 

"  Find  a  dump  ? "  she  inquired,  semi-interest- 
edly. 

"  I  found  a  very  nice  place,"  Eugenia  answered, 


120  THE  WORK-A-DAY  GIRL 

rather    stiffly.     Her    manner    invited    no    questions, 
promised  no  confidences. 

The  other  girl  caught  the  defiant  note,  and 
shrugged. 

"  All  right.  Only  I  hope  you're  on  to  the  kind  of 
'  nice '  places  that'll  take  a  girl  to  board  for  what  you 
can  afford  to  pay." 

"  I  don't  know  what  you  mean/'  Eugenia  said. 

"  I  thought  you  didn't.  Well,  you  better  be  care- 
ful." 

Eugenia's  anxiety  overcame  her  pride.  She  begged 
the  other  girl  to  explain,  and  her  face  was  a  picture  of 
horror  as  she  heard  how  nearly  she  had  been  caught 
in  a  trap.  The  older  girl  was  moved  by  Eugenia's 
terror.  She  had  felt  that  way,  too,  once  on  a  time; 
now  she  was  not  frightened — only  morose. 

"  If  you  want,  I'll  take  a  room  with  you  somewhere 
— a  room  we  can  get  for  a  dollar  each,  or  so.  It's 
just  about  impossible  to  get  dinners  you  can  eat  under 
twenty  cents;  but  we  can  skimp  on  breakfasts  and 
lunches,  and  maybe  get  through  on  three-and-a-half." 

"  I've  just  got  to !  "  Eugenia  cried.  "  And  even  at 
that,  I  don't  see  how  I'm  going  to  get  any  winter 
clothes  until  it's  nearly  spring." 

'  You  can  get  clothes  on  easy  payments,  if  you 
have  to,"  the  older  girl  said.  "  They  soak  you  three 
prices,  and  hound  you  to  death — but  if  you've  got  to, 
you've  got  to,  I  suppose." 

They  found  a  room,  within  walking  distance  of  the 


HER  DAILY  BREAD 

business  centre.  It  wasn't  a  "  nice  "  room,  but  it  was 
the  best  they  could  get  for  their  price.  And  Eugenia 
got  a  hat  and  coat  on  "  easy  "  payments. 

Meanwhile,  at  the  office  of  the  Sovereign  Remedy 
Co.,  Eugenia  was  making  very  fair  progress.  She 
took  most  of  the  manager's  letters,  now,  and  the  other 
"  stenographer  "  did  little  more  than  addressing,  bill- 
ing, filing,  copying,  and  such  work. 

There  were  things  about  the  Sovereign  Remedy  Co. 
that  Eugenia  did  not  like ;  but  as  they  did  not  concern 
her,  she  thought  she  ought  to  ignore  them,  for  the 
present.  The  "  Remedy,"  for  instance,  was  quite} 
frankly  a  "  joke."  Eugenia's  heart  and  conscience 
both  protested  against  the  fraud;  against  the  hilarity 
with  which  sick  persons'  too-confidential  letters  were 
read  and  passed  from  hand  to  hand;  against  the 
methods  of  getting  "testimonials";  against  the 
manager's  slogan :  "  You  can  sell  anything  to  any- 
body, if  your  ad.  dope  is  right."  He  even  thought 
well  of  himself,  in  comparison  with  some  of  his  com- 
petitors, because  there  was  no  "  knock-out "  in  his 
stuff.  He  boasted  of  this  to  Eugenia,  when  he  felt 
the  protest  that  she  durst  not  speak.  And  when  he 
saw  that  he  was  not  able  to  extenuate  himself,  he 
laughed,  and  called  her  "  Miss  Green,"  and  prom- 
ised her  that  she  would  have  "  city  sense "  some 
day. 

In  other  ways,  though,  he  was  rather  "  nice  "  to 
her:  he  could  tell  by  the  look  in  her  eyes  when  she 


12S  THE  WOKK-A-DAY  GIRL 

had  one  of  her  blinding  headaches,  and  would  send 
her  home;  he  was  fairly  patient  when  she  made  mis- 
takes; and  he  taught  her  a  good  many  things  the  value 
of  which  she  could  not  but  recognize.  He  had  been 
an  ad.  writer  for  others,  before  he  embarked  with 
his  modest  capital  on  this  business  of  his  own;  and 
he  had  a  crisp,  pungent  style.  He  laid  great  stress 
on  punctuation,  always  naming  the  "  point  "  he  wished 
used.  And,  although  his  office  was  without  dignity 
or  proper  business  decorum,  it  was  not  without  a  pre- 
vailing good  nature  which  was  friendly,  if  "  fresh." 
Eugenia  described  conditions  faithfully  to  her  room- 
mate, Sarah,  of  whom  she  was  becoming  quite  fond; 
and  Sarah  advised  her  to  "  stick."  For  Sarah,  in  her 
varied  experience,  had  found  many  places  that  were 
worse. 

One  evening,  Eugenia  did  not  get  back  to  their 
room  in  time  to  go  out  to  dinner.  She  came  in  about 
ten  o'clock,  explaining  that  Mr.  Ledyard  had  been  out 
all  day  and  couldn't  get  his  letters  done;  so  he  asked 
her  to  work  in  the  evening. 

"Did  he  take  you  to  supper?"  Sarah  asked. 

"  Oh,  no !  but  he  gave  me  fifty  cents  for  supper 
money.  I  was  glad  to  get  it." 

The  night- work  grew  to  be  almost  a  regular  thing; 
and  in  consequence  of  it,  Eugenia  was  allowed  to 
come  down  late  in  the  morning.  Her  salary  was  not 
raised,  but  her  "  supper  money  "  brought  her  income 
up  to  at  least  eight  dollars. 


HER  DAILY  BREAD  123 

"  Does  anybody  else  work,  except  just  you  and  Mr. 
Ledyard  ?  "  Sarah  demanded. 

"  No.  But  he's  perfectly  all  right — I  mean,  as  far 
as  that  goes." 

"  I  don't  think  any  man  is  '  perfectly  all  right ' 
who  wants  an  eighteen-year-old  girl  to  work  nights  in 
an  office  alone  with  him,"  Sarah  declared.  "  If  he 
has  so  much  night-work,  he  should  get  a  middle-aged 
woman — there  are  plenty  of  them  that  work  cheap." 

"  Well,  if  I  knew  where  I  could  get  eight  dollars 
in  a  safer  place,  I'd  go,"  Eugenia  replied.  "  But  I 
don't  know." 

'''  That's  all  right,  then.  But  keep  your  eyes  open," 
Sarah  counselled.  "  Look  out  for  the  time  when  he 
suggests  that  you  might  as  well  eat  together.  That 
never  means  but  one  thing." 

The  time  came.  Eugenia,  fortified  by  Sarah's  ad- 
monitions, declined  the  invitation  as  tactfully  as  she 
could,  but  was  not  able  to  conceal  her  dismay. 

"  I'm  surprised  at  you !  "  he  cried.  "  You,  who 
pretended  to  be  such  a  sweet,  unsuspecting  little  girl. 
But  I  can  tell  you  that  you  misjudge  me !  I'm  sorry 
you  have  such  an  evil  mind.  But  I  do  not  see  how 
I  can  have  a  girl  go  on  working  for  me,  that  thinks 
such  things  of  me." 

"Yes;  that's  the  familiar  spiel— that's  what  they 
always  say,"  was  Sarah's  comment  when  Eugenia 
told  her  about  the  loss  of  her  job. 

Eugenia  could  not  use  Mr.  Ledyard's  name  for  ref- 


124,  THE  WORK-A-DAY  GIRL 

erence  when  seeking  another  place.  Sarah  told  her 
to  keep  her  tongue  in  her  head  about  why  she  had 
been  discharged.  "  Those  that  tell  mostly  bring  sus- 
picion on  themselves,"  she  said.  "  You  get  the  credit 
for  having  tried  to  lead  a  perfectly  good  gentleman 
astray/' 

"  But  what  shall  I  say  when  they  ask  if  I've  had  any 
experience  ?  "  Eugenia  wept. 

"  Say  you  have,  but " 

"  But  I  can't  get  any  references !  Won't  that  be  a 
nice  thing  to  tell  ?  " 

"  Well,  you're  a  girl — and  you're  up  against  it.  I 
don't  know  any  way  that  you  can  get  a  fair  show. 
Some  girls,  when  they  get  up  against  this,  think  there's 
no  use  trying  to  fight  it.  I've  fought  it — but  I'm  a 
failure.  I  don't  know  whether  IVe  got  any  right  to 
recommend  you  to  do  as  I've  done." 

Eugenia's  eyes  flashed.  "  You  don't  need  to 
recommend  me  to  be  decent!  I've  got  something  in- 
side me,  I  hope,  that  will  keep  me  pointed  straight." 

Eugenia  did  "  keep  pointed  straight."  She  did 
have  something  in  her  that  enabled  her  to  endure  and 
to  resist. 

But  if  that  "  something  "  had  not  been  in  her — 
what  then? 

Girls  like  Eugenia  ought  not  to  be  obliged  to  trust 
their  own  intuitions  when  looking  for  employment. 

They  ought  not  to  feel  that  they  are  "  up  against  it  " 
when  they  have  angered  a  man  like  Ledyard. 


HER  DAILY  BREAD  125 

To  give  them  protection  is  not  so  difficult  as  many 
another  task  of  conservation  which  we  unhesitatingly 
undertake;  and  few  tasks  could  be  more  important. 

In  some  of  the  best-governed  German  cities,  all  boys 
and  girls  under  eighteen,  who  go  to  work,  are  placed 
in  positions  by  the  school  board  and  may  quit  or  be 
discharged  only  by  permission  of  the  school  authorities 
after  the  reasons  for  the  change  have  been  thoroughly 
investigated.  Edinburgh  has  a  similar  system.  Lon- 
don is  beginning  to  assume  some  responsibility  for  the 
early  industrial  experiences  of  its  children.  Cincinnati 
is  doing  a  notable  work  in  this  line.  Chicago  is  taking 
some  first  steps  toward  such  guardianship.  It  is  bound 
to  come,  everywhere,  as  people  wake  up  to  the  great 
need  for  it. 

Nothing  helps  on  a  general  awakening  so  well  as 
making  a  beginning  of  showing  what  can  be  done. 
In  some  communities,  a  handful  of  earnest  women  have 
carried  on  experiments  in  safeguarding  young  workers, 
blacklisting  unscrupulous  employers,  and  rendering 
like  service  so  successfully  that  the  authorities  were 
impelled  to  take  over  the  work  and  make  it  a  depart- 
ment of  the  public  service.  Women's  clubs  ought  to 
concern  themselves  with  this.  They  could  not  pos- 
sibly be  more  importantly  engaged. 

There  ought  not  to  be  in  any  community  containing 
even  one  sweet,  good,  earnest  motherly  or  sisterly 
woman,  a  girl  like  Eugenia,  who  feels  that  she  has  no 
one  to  whom  she  can  turn  for  counsel,  for  direction, 


126  THE  WORK-A-DAY  GIRL 

for  defence.  And  with  the  growth  of  organization 
among  women,  the  rapid  development  of  their  sense 
of  social  service,  they  will — one  feels  sure — soon  see 
to  it  that  their  daughters  and  the  daughters  of  other 
homes  are  given  every  protection  necessary  in  their 
quest  of  daily  bread,  of  sane,  safe  amusement;  of  those 
things  that  sustain  life,  and  of  those  that  transfigure  it. 


VI 
THE  GIRL  WHO  EARNS  $6  A  WEEK 

"\\  THAT  could  you  do  if  I  was  to  let  you 

w   ^r        £®  ^  " 

Mrs.  Burkhart's  tone  was  not  so  chal- 
lenging as  it  might  well  have  been;  it  was  merely 
plaintively  inquiring. 

"  Why,"  Hazel  answered,  her  confidence  undimin- 
ished  by  the  indefiniteness  of  her  reply,  "  I  could  do 
what  Minnie  does,  I  guess.  She  don't  know  any 
more  than  I  do — or  she  didn't  when  she  went  away." 

"  Don't  she  say  at  all  what  she's  workin'  at?  " 

Hazel  referred  to  the  opened  letter  in  her  hand. 

"  No ;  she  don't  say  what  she  does.  On'y  that 
there's  hundreds  of  girls  workin'  where  she  does,  an' 
she's  almost  sure  she  can  get  me  took  on." 

"  Wouldn't  it  be  better  if  she  was  to  find  out  for 
certain  before  you  go?" 

Hazel  looked  the  scorn  she  felt  for  her  mother's 
ignorance  of  the  world's  ways. 

"  How  could  she  ?  Who's  goin'  to  hire  a  girl 
they've  never  seen?" 

"I  guess  that's  right,"  Mrs.  Burkhart  acquiesced, 
meekly.  "But,"  with  sudden  spirit,  "I'd  hate  for 

127 


128  THE  WORK-A-DAY  GIRL 

you  to  be  a  fact'ry  girl.  Clerkin's  all  right;  but  I'd 
hate  for  you  to  work  in  a  mill  or  fact'ry." 

There  were  a  few  manufacuring  industries  in  their 
own  small  town,  and  the  girl  operatives — mostly  East 
European — were  looked  down  upon  as  "  tough  "  by 
the  town  folk,  especially  by  the  mothers  who  thought 
themselves  and  their  offspring  "  nice." 

"  It  ain't  likely  Minnie  would  work  in  a  fact'ry," 
Hazel  retorted.  "  If  she  had  been  willin'  to  do  that, 
she  could  have  stayed  home  an'  done  it.  She  says 
she's  earnin'  six  dollars  a  week,  an'  that  if  I  come  I 
can  get  as  much,  an'  we  can  live  awful  nice  by  clubbin' 
together." 

"  Well,  I  should  hope  you  could ! "  her  mother 
ejaculated.  "  That's  more'n  fifty  dollars  a  month  for 
two  girls  to  live  on.  Your  pa  didn't  make  more'n  that 
when  we  was  married  an'  had  two  children.  Fact  is, 
he  don't  spend  no  more'n  that  on  us  now.  Whatever 
else  he  earns  don't  go  on  our  backs,  nor  into  our 
pleasures ! " 

Hazel  recognized  at  the  outset  a  wearisomely  fa- 
miliar theme;  she  was  in  sympathy  with  it,  but 
whereas  her  mother  seemed  to  find  satisfaction  in 
reiterating  her  grievances,  Hazel  was  tired  of  talking 
and  eager  to  do  something. 

She  was  sick  of  the  home  atmosphere;  of  its  bicker- 
ings and  its  pinch-penny  restrictions  and  denials. 
And,  too,  she  was  young  and  so  eager  for  adventure 
that  she  would  have  left  a  far  softer  home-nest  for 


THE  GIRL  WHO  EARNS  $6  A  WEEK     129 

the  chance  to  try  her  own  wings.  What  we  are 
pleased  to  call  our  educational  system  is  such  that, 
while  we  ply  our  adolescent  things  with  theory  upon 
theory,  we  sedulously  seek  to  keep  them  from  testing 
any  of  the  theories  in  practice.  But  Nature  is  not 
easily  outwitted;  she  provides  younglings,  human  and 
otherwise,  with  a  deep  desire  to  test  life  for  them- 
selves; with  a  tingling  to  do  and  dare,  which  no  cer- 
tainty of  hardship  can  overcome. 

It  seemed  to  Hazel  that  her  parents  had  made  a 
squalid  failure  of  life.  What  compromise  they  had 
effected  with  their  youthful  dreams  they  never  hinted 
to  her,  and  it  was  not  possible,  yet,  for  her  to  guess. 
She  wanted  to  get  away  from  the  home  frets  and  into 
the  great,  free  world  where  one  might  fly  and  soar, 
looking  on  at  life,  fetterless,  and  occasionally  dipping 
down  into  a  bit  of  it  that  invited.  She  wanted  move- 
ment, nights.  She  wanted  to  earn  money.  And  she 
wanted  social  opportunities.  She  told  herself  that  it 
was  natural  for  her  to  want  to  be  with  Minnie;  be- 
cause she  and  Minnie  had  been  good  friends  for  years. 
But  there  was  a  stronger  urging,  though  Hazel  did  not 
recognize  it :  Minnie  might  have  thrived,  forgotten,  in 
the  city  if  the  home  town  held  a  hope  of  romance; 
but  it  didn't.  Hazel  did  not  know  a  young  man  about 
whom  she  could  build  a  dream.  Minnie  said  that 
hundreds  of  young  folks,  girls  and  fellows,  worked 
where  she  did.  The  statement  made  Hazel's  pulses 
leap.  What  infinite  possibilities  for  good  times,  for 


130  THE  WORK-A-DAY  GIRL 

new  acquaintance,  for  selecting  "  Mr.  Right "  from 
among  a  host  of  eligibles! 

Mr.  Burkhart  expressed  no  fearfulness  about  Ha- 
zel's going  to  the  city  to  join  the  wolf-packs  of  the 
unskilled.  He  had  been  an  inefficient,  less-than-half- 
equipped  worker  all  his  life  and  had  grown  dulled  to 
the  miseries  and  the  dangers  of  the  condition.  It  did 
not  even  seem  to  him  vital  that  any  of  them  should 
discover  what  Minnie  was  working  at,  or  how  she 
was  living.  He  took  it  for  granted  that  Hazel  should 
accept  the  chances  of  her  class,  and  bear  with  what 
she  did  not  like — unless,  by  some  chance,  she  could 
better  it. 

A  woman  who  was  a  fellow-member  with  Mrs. 
Burkhart  of  The  Friendly  Workers'  Aid  called  when 
she  heard  of  Hazel's  intended  departure,  and  told  of 
some  magazine  articles  she  had  read  about  "  the  girl 
and  the  city."  She  warned  Hazel  against  speaking 
to  any  one  on  the  train;  against  going  with  any  one 
who  came  up  to  her  in  the  depot  offering  her  employ- 
ment; against  answering  advertisements  that  offered 
large  salaries  and  said  "  no  experience  required." 
She  seemed  horrified  that  the  Burkharts  knew  so  little 
about  what  Hazel  was  going  to  do.  Unfortunately, 
she  was  the  sort  of  person  whose  cravings  for  the 
dramatic  led  her  always  to  make  things  out  very 
grave :  when  any  one  had  the  measles  she  always  told 
of  a  large  list  of  persons  who  became  permanently 
blind  or  deaf  or  weak  of  heart  as  a  result  of  that 


THE  GIRL  WHO  EARNS  $6  A  WEEK     18.1 

malady;  when  any  one  bought  a  navy  blue  suit,  she 
could  be  counted  on  to  tell  of  many  navy  blue  suits 
which  had  "  faded  something  shameful."  Cassan- 
dras  are  still  being  discredited,  and  always  will  be. 

Hazel  laughed  at  the  warnings;  her  father  swore 
at  them,  good-humouredly,  because  the  Cassandra  was 
a  spinster  and  had  never  been  to  the  city,  and  he  was 
one  of  the  many  men  who  feel  sure  that  an  unmarried 
woman  cannot  possibly  know  anything  in  general  and 
that  no  woman  can  possibly  know  anything  she  has 
not  personally  experienced.  Mrs.  Burkhart  was 
faintly  perturbed,  but  allowed  herself  to  be  overborne. 

So  Hazel  went  to  the  city,  having  advised  Minnie 
on  what  train  she  would  arrive.  She  did  not  know 
enough  to  be  fearful  that  Minnie  might  not  be  there. 
She  had  Minnie's  address,  plainly  written  on  a  strip 
of  paper,  in  her  purse;  and  she  felt  confident  of  find- 
ing the  place  if  she  needs  must. 

As  it  happened,  Minnie  was  able  to  meet  the  train. 
Hazel  was  a  bit  dismayed  when  she  reached  what 
Minnie  called  "  home  " :  a  windowless  wee  room  off 
the  kitchen  of  a  cluttered,  unclean,  sour-smelling  four- 
room  flat.  But  Minnie  explained  that  when  they 
"  clubbed  together  "  they  could  have  a  room  twice  as 
good. 

Hazel  had  an  uncomfortable  night,  trying  to  sleep 
on  half  of  Minnie's  cot,  whose  mattress  was  so  thin 
that  the  woven-wire  springs  seemed  to  be  pressing 
into  Hazel's  weary  muscles.  She  was  not  loath  to 


THE  WORK-A-DAY  GIRL 

get  up  at  six;  and  though  she  was  tired  and  sleepy,  it 
seemed  "  fun  "  to  go  out  to  a  cheap  little  restaurant 
and  order  a  fifteen-cent  breakfast. 

"  This  is  a  celebration,"  Minnie  said  as  they  sat  at 
their  fried  eggs,  coffee,  and  rolls.  "  We  dassent  do 
this  again — ever." 

"  Dassent  we  ?  "  Hazel  echoed.  "  What  dast  we  do 
other  times  ?  " 

"Well,  it's  like  this,"  Minnie  went  on:  "we  gotta 
plan  awful  careful.  Say  I  get  you  a  job  like  mine, 
as  I'm  hopin'  to:  we  each  have  six  a  week.  Now, 
here's  what  we  got  to  choose  from :  We  kin  board  in 
a  Home;  there's  enough  of  'em,  but  they're  all  fierce. 
You  kin  sleep  in  a  dormitory  with  five  other  girls,  an' 
get  two  meals  a  day,  fer  three-fifty  a  week.  With  a 
ten-cent  lunch  a  day,  and  mostly  with  sixty  cents  a 
week  carfare,  that's  four-seventy — leavin'  you  one- 
thirty  a  week  fer  clothes  an'  amusements  an'  every- 
thing. Maybe  you  could  stand  it  if  they  wouldn't 
always  be  tryin'  to  improve  you.  You  come  home 
at  night  dead  tired  after  sellin'  brass  tacks  or  makin' 
paper  boxes,  and  they  set  you  up  in  the  parlour  an' 
have  a  missionary  woman  tell  you  how  the  Chinese 
girls  bind  their  feet.  It's  awful — when  what  you're 
dyin'  for  is  a  chance  to  shake  a  leg.  You  have  to  get 
a  permit  to  stay  out  after  10:30.  And  you  gotta  pray 
before  you  eat  and  pray  before  you  sleep,  an'  give 
an  account  of  everything  you  do.  Then  the  matrons 
or  superintendents  or  whatever  they  call  'em  are  the 


W 


w    £ 


•§ 


THE  GIRL  WPIO  EARNS  $6  A  WEEK     133 

limit.  The  rich  dame  that  gives  the  most  money  to 
furnish  the  Home  with  elevatin'  pictures,  or  some- 
thing like  that,  always  has  a  Cousin  Maria  that's  the 
family  Jonah — that  nobody  can  stand,  but  somebody's 
got  to  support.  So  the  rich  dame  says :  *  Ah,  ha !  I'll 
put  Cousin  Maria  into  the  Home  as  matron.'  An' 
she  does !  Cousin  Maria  has  an  easy  way  of  knowin' 
right  from  wrong:  if  you  ever  want  to  do  anything, 
it  must  be  wrong;  if  you  hate  it,  it's  sure  to  be  what 
you  ought  to  do.  You  kin  try  one  o'  them  places  if 
you  want  to — I've  had  enough  o'  them." 

"  I  don't  want  to  try,"  Hazel  hastened  to  declare. 
"  Why  don't  we  live  in  some  nice  boardin'-house 
where  we  can  do  what  we  want  to?" 

Minnie  laughed.  "  Say,  but  you're  green !  "  she 
said.  :'  There  ain't  no  nice  boardin'-houses  where 
six-dollar  girls  can  live.  I  don't  know  of  one — not 
a  nice  one,  but  any  old  kind — where  you  can  get  room 
an'  board  for  four  a  week.  If  you  gotta  board  that 
cheap,  it's  a  cinch  you  have  to  pay  some  other  way — 
give  some  flossy  dames  the  fun  of  bossing  you  around 
and  kidding  themselves  they're  doin'  good.  Nobody 
that  really  respecks  you  is  goin'  to  board  you  for  four 
a  week.  Now,  what  we  kin  do  is  this:  We  kin  get 
a  pretty  punk  room  in  walkin'  distance  for  about 
three  a  week ;  or  we  kin  get  a  better  room,  far  out,  for 
maybe  two-fifty.  That  means  one-fifty  each  for  the 
punk  room,  or  one-eighty-five  each,  countin'  carfare, 
for  the  decent  one.  If  we  want  to  live  on  four  a 


THE  WORK-A-DAY  GIRL 

week,  so  as  to  leave  something  for  clothes,  amuse- 
ments, and  emergencies,  we  gotta  eat  twenty-one 
meals  every  week  for  two-thirty-five  or  two-fifty.  If 
the  meals  cost  ten  cents  each,  we'll  have  a  few  cents 
over  for  times  when  we're  extra  hungry.  Or  we 
could  have  fifteen-cent  dinners.  But  breakfasts  have 
got  to  stay  at  ten  cents  or  below,  you  bet." 

"  Maybe,"  ventured  Hazel,  whose  appetite  was 
healthy  and  whose  expenditure  for  clothes  and  amuse- 
ments had  never  reached  anything  like  so  large  a  sum 
as  two  dollars  a  week,  "  we  won't  need  so  much  for 
clothes." 

Minnie  regarded  her  scornfully.  "  You  wait  and 
see,"  she  admonished. 

Another  thing  which  she  had  no  right  to  expect  hap- 
pened to  Hazel:  she  got  work  at  Minnie's  place  for 
six  a  week.  It  was  a  factory;  but  she  and  Minnie 
were  employed  in  the  offices  where  they  filed  letters, 
addressed  envelopes,  and  did  like  work — which  was 
better  than  going  into  a  department  store,  Minnie  ex- 
plained, "  because  you  don't  have  to  buy  black  clothes 
an'  look  like  you  was  gettin'  at  least  fifteen." 

For  two  or  three  evenings  the  girls  did  a  little 
desultory  room-hunting,  then  returned  to  their  sour 
little  hole  where  they  could  sleep,  fitfully,  only  because 
they  were  so  tired,  and  where  they  woke  almost  as- 
phyxiated because  one  of  the  members  of  the  family 
from  whom  they  sub-let  was  a  "  fresh  guy,"  and  they 
had  to  keep  their  door  closed  (it  wouldn't  lock)  and 


THE  GIRL  WHO  EARNS  $6  A  WEEK     135 

tilt  their  chair  so  that  the  back  served  as  a  catch  for 
the  door-handle. 

They  inquired,  vainly,  among  their  fellow-employes 
about  rooms  to  rent ;  scanned  advertising  columns,  and 
visited  a  variety  of  lodgings  all  distinguished  by  dirt 
and  smells,  but  differing  in  such  details  as  price  of 
room,  extra  charge  for  use  of  kitchen  stove,  and  so  on. 
Finally  they  decided  to  "  commute/'  as  Minnie  called 
it :  to  take  a  room  far  out,  in  one  of  the  newer  build- 
ings which,  if  they  smelled  of  the  present  tenants'  un- 
cleanness,  at  least  did  not  cherish  the  smells  of  un- 
counted past  inhabitants.  This  meant  a  forty-minute 
ride,  night  and  morning,  in  a  jammed  elevated  car 
which  was  invariably  full  when  the  girls  got  in,  so 
that  they  had  to  sway,  strap-hanging,  for  both  prelude 
and  postlude  to  their  day's  work  which  kept  them 
almost  constantly  on  their  feet. 

However,  they  got  a  decent  little  room,  with  a 
fairly  comfortable  bed,  for  ten  dollars  a  month;  and 
their  landlady  was  kind  about  letting  them  boil  their 
coffee  on  her  gas-stove  in  the  mornings  and  selling 
them  a  penny's  worth  of  milk  from  her  own  supply. 
They  brought  rolls  in  with  them  when  they  came  home 
at  night,  and  sometimes  a  couple  of  eggs  or  of  apples. 
This  kept  their  breakfast  cost  down  to  about  five  cents 
each,  on  an  average.  At  noon,  they  could  go  to  a 
bakery  lunch-room  and  have  coffee  and  rolls,  or  coffee 
and  pie,  or  coffee  and  doughnuts,  for  ten  cents.  The 
coffee  was  invariable;  and  usually  what  went  with  it 


136  THE  WORK-A-DAY  GIRL 

was  a  sweet  something  far  from  filling.  At  night 
they  were  voraciously  hungry,  and  the  temptation  to 
spend  more  than  they  could  afford  had  to  be  fought 
down  almost  every  dinner-hour. 

Minnie  always  resisted  this  temptation  because  she 
was  clothes-crazy,  and  resented  the  demands  of  her 
stomach  as  taking  so  much  from  what  might  else  have 
gone  on  her  back.  Hazel  was  a  little  slow  in  accus- 
toming herself  to  insufficient  food;  when  a  fifteen- 
cent  dinner  failed  to  fill  her,  she  went  recklessly  on 
and  ate  another  nickel's  worth;  she  was  even  known 
to  supplement  her  luncheon  by  five  cents'  worth  of 
jelly-roll  or  doughnuts  which  she  carried  in  for  sur- 
reptitious consumption  in  mid-afternoon.  Minnie's 
scorn  of  this  improvidence  had  less  effect  than  Min- 
nie's exemplification  of  the  other  course:  Minnie  was 
able  to  "  blow  herself  "  to  an  enormous  bunch  of  new 
hair,  which  had  transformed  her  from  what  she  called 
"  a  back  number  "  to  "  something  dead  swell."  Ha- 
zel watched  the  transformation  at  home;  she  watched 
its  effect  among  their  f ellow- workers ;  she  tried  the 
hair  on  her  own  head,  and  was  fascinated  by  what  the 
mirror  showed  her.  Then,  moved  by  Minnie's  sudden 
bloom  into  "  style,"  and  by  the  manner  she  put  on 
along  with  the  new  hair,  a  youth  in  their  department 
asked  Minnie  to  a  dance.  At  once,  Hazel's  attitude 
toward  her  stomach  changed,  and  she  began  to  regard 
its  demands  resentfully.  No  more  surreptitious  jelly- 
roll;  no  more  twenty-cent  dinners;  no  more  eggs  for 


THE  GIRL  WHO  EARNS  $6  A  WEEK     137 

breakfast,  at  three  cents  each.  She  would  have  a 
"  bun  "  of  hair,  and  a  broad  ribbon  bandeau,  and  be 
taken  to  a  dance. 

Meanwhile,  Minnie's  beau  was  causing  complica- 
tions. He  called  one  evening  soon  after  the  dance. 
It  was  a  rainy  evening.  The  parlour  of  their  land- 
lady's flat,  which  served  also  as  sleeping-room  for 
her  two  school-girl  daughters,  was  in  use :  the  school- 
girls were  entertaining  some  school-boys.  Minnie 
took  her  young  man  into  her  room.  In  a  few  min- 
utes the  landlady  knocked  peremptorily  at  the  door. 
When  it  was  opened,  she  stepped  inside  and  closed 
the  door  behind  her. 

"  I  can't  have  nothing  like  this  in  my  house,"  she 
declared  with  virtuous  indignation.  "  I  got  my  girls 
to  think  of,  and  anyway  I'm  a  respectable  lady  myself, 
and,  even  if  I  wasn't,  the  other  tenants  would  be  sure 
to  make  trouble  if  they  knew  I  let  to  girls  that  ain't 
partic'lar." 

Minnie's  cheeks  blazed,  and  her  eyes  flashed  fire. 
The  young  man  looked  uncomfortable,  but  said  noth- 
ing except :  "  I  guess  I  better  go." 

Then  Minnie's  tears  came.  She  would  lose  him! 
He  would  never  come  again!  He  would  go  back  to 
the  office  and  tell  everybody  about  this  call,  and  they 
would  all  laugh ! 

"  You  ain't  any  more  respectable  than  I  am ! "  she 
cried.  "  I  can't  entertain  my  comp'ny  in  the  parlour 
when  it's  full  o'  kids." 


138  THE  WORK-A-DAY  GIRL 

"  You  ain't  payin'  rent  for  no  parlour,"  the  land- 
lady retorted.  "  It  belongs  to  my  family." 

"  Well,  then,  I  guess  I  can  have  who  I  want  in  the 
room  I  am  payin'  rent  for." 

"  Not  in  my  house,  you  can't !  " 

"  Can't  I  ?  Well,  so  long  as  I'm  behavin'  myself, 
I  don't  take  no  sass  from  you  nor  the  likes  of  you. 
We'll  move  to-morrow." 

;<  You're  lucky  I  don't  make  you  move  to-night," 
was  the  parting  shot  of  the  landlady. 

"  Say ! "  burst  from  the  young  man,  when  the  in- 
vader had  departed,  "  you  got  spunk ;  you're  a 
dandy!" 

So  Minnie  was  mollified.  She  had  not  lost  her 
young  man;  rather,  she  had  established  herself  still 
further,  it  seemed,  in  his  admiring  regard. 

She  sent  word  by  Hazel  next  morning  that  she  was 
"  sick"  and  could  not  go  to  work;  and  when  she  in- 
spected rooms  that  were  for  rent  she  was  careful  to 
ask  about  where  she  might  have  her  company.  In  no 
place  within  their  means  was  the  parlour  available. 
In  flats,  if  the  parlour  was  not  rented,  it  might  be 
shared,  occasionally,  with  any  member  of  the  family 
who  chanced  to  be  sitting  in  it,  although  it  must  be 
vacated  when  the  persons  who  slept  in  it  wanted  to 
go  to  bed.  In  lodging-houses  the  parlour  was  inva- 
riably rented ;  it  had  to  be,  to  make  ends  meet  for  the 
landlady.  Some  places  were  particular  about  men 
company  in  girls'  rooms;  some  were  not.  Minnie 


THE  GIRL  WHO  EARNS  $6  A  WEEK     139 

hired  a  room  in  a  lodging-house  whose  keeper  assured 
her,  "  What  ain't  none  o'  my  business  I  don't  see." 
This  soon  became  evident. 

They  moved  in  the  evening.  The  new  room  was 
not  inviting,  but  they  thought  that  perhaps  they  could 
make  it  a  little  more  so.  At  any  rate,  it  offered 
"  freedom,"  and  to  girls  looking  for  mates  that 
seemed  worth  any  price.  There  were  other  girl  room- 
ers; and  it  was  not  long  before  Minnie  and  Hazel  had 
to  admit,  between  themselves,  that  "  things  were  kind 
of  queer."  Still,  they  argued,  "  so  long  as  we  don't 
do  anything  wrong,  it  ain't  goin'  to  hurt  us  what  some 
other  girls  do."  But  apparently  it  did.  Minnie's 
young  man  friend  who  had  been  attracted  by  her 
"  bun  "  of  hair,  and  aroused  to  enthusiasm  by  her  de- 
fiance of  conventions,  jumped  to  the  not  unnatural 
conclusion  that  Minnie  had  no  scruples  of  any  kind. 
He  gave  Hazel  half  a  dollar  one  evening  when  he  was 
calling,  and  said:  "  Here,  Kiddo!  chase  yerself." 

Surmising  a  proposal  of  marriage,  Hazel  reluc- 
tantly withdrew.  She  went  alone  to  a  nickel  theatre,  ' 
wandered  about  the  streets  for  an  hour  or  so,  then 
returned  to  their  room.  Entering  cautiously,  she 
heard  Minnie  sobbing.  "  He — got  fresh,"  was  Min- 
nie's anguished  reply  to  her  entreaties.  "  An'  when 
I  said  I  wasn't  that  kind  of  a  girl,  he  was  mad  and 
told  me  I  was  playing  him  for  a  fool." 

Minnie  cried  all  night.  She  was  incensed  at  hav- 
ing been  so  misunderstood;  she  was  desolated  by  the 


140  THE  WORK-A-DAY  GIRL 

loss  of  her  young  man  whom  she  mourned,  in  true 
feminine  fashion,  not  as  he  was  but  as  she  fancied 
him;  and  she  was  mortified,  because  she  knew  he 
would  treat  her  sneeringly  before  all  their  fellow- 
workers,  and  when  called  to  account  for  his  change 
would  not  hesitate  to  tell  the  reason.  Any  consoling 
moralist  could  have  told  her  she  ought  to  be  proud 
of  the  reason;  as,  indeed,  she  knew  without  being 
told.  But  better  fortified  persons  than  poor  little 
Minnie  have  quailed,  if  they  did  not  waver,  when 
their  virtue  was  made  sport  of. 

It  took  real  courage  to  go  back  to  work  next  morn- 
ing; but  Minnie  went.  One  thing  that  helped  her 
was  her  woman's  hope  that,  when  he  came  to  think 
things  over,  he  would  understand,  and  be  sorry  for 
what  he  had  done,  and  love  her  better  than  ever.  All 
our  early  counsels  advise  us  that  this  is  virtue's  re- 
ward. Or  at  least  that  is  the  way  we  interpret  them. 
When  experience  fails  to  verify  this  expectation,  we 
are  very  philosophic  indeed  if  we  are  able  to  remind 
ourselves  that  the  commonest  and  most  natural  effect 
of  virtue  upon  lack  of  virtue  is  a  fine  pretence  of  con- 
tempt. Maybe  it  is  pretence  and  maybe  it  isn't.  But 
bravado  demands  a  show  of  contempt;  if  we  break  a 
rule,  we  must  make  it  appear  that  we  break  it,  not 
because  we  haven't  strength  to  keep  it,  but  because 
we  hold  ourselves  too  clever  to  be  bound  by  it.  So 
what  is  there  left  for  us  to  do  toward  those  who  still 
abide  by  the  rule  but  look  down  upon  their  inferior 


THE  GIRL  WHO  EARNS  $6  A  WEEK     141 

intelligence?  Even  if,  in  his  heart,  Minnie's  young 
man  was  forced  to  respect  her,  the  hurt  to  his  pride 
would  never  let  him  acknowledge  it.  And  Minnie 
hoped  in  vain. 

She  was  very  sore  of  spirit  for  a  while.  Then  her 
bravado  asserted  itself.  Their  fellow- workers  knew 
that  something  had  happened  between  her  and  Ray; 
not  many  of  them  credited  her  with  making  the  break. 
She  must  show  them!  Must  let  them  see  that  she 
could  get  another  fellow,  and  a  better  one  than  Ray. 
Then  maybe  they  would  believe  that  she  had  thrown 
Ray  down! 

As  soon  as  they  could,  she  and  Hazel  moved.  This 
time  they  avoided  uninquiring  landladies,  and  delib- 
erately bound  themselves  to  entertain  no  men  in  their 
room.  "  I  don't  care,"  Minnie  said.  "  The  kind  of  a 
fellow  I  want  is  the  kind  I  wouldn't  want  to  have 
know  I  lived  like  this,  anyway.  If  he's  any  good, 
he  can  find  places  to  take  me  to  when  he  wants  to 
enjoy  my  society.  The  kind  of  fellow  that  wants  to 
sit  around  in  a  parlour  is  a  cheap  skate,  and  I  don't 
want  none  o'  them.  What  we  gotta  do,  though,  if  we 
want  to  be  taken  around  by  fellows  that  ain't  afraid 
to  spend,  is  to  get  ourselves  some  clothes,  so  a  swell 
fellow  won't  be  ashamed  to  be  seen  with  us." 

To  this  end,  they  took  the  least  desirable  room  on 
their  list  of  possibilities;  because  they  could  get  it  for 
two  dollars  a  week.  It  had  no  heat,  except  such  as 
came  in  from  the  kitchen,  and  no  light  but  that  of  a 


THE  WORK-A-DAY  GIRL 

small  glass  lamp,  and  no  closet  (of  course),  and  there 
was  no  bathroom ;  the  toilet  was  down  three  flights  of 
stairs,  in  a  dark  closet  at  the  back  of  a  black  hall. 
Furthermore,  the  woman  of  whom  they  rented  had 
a  sickly  baby  that  cried  almost  incessantly,  and  a  hus- 
band who  drank  with  nearly  the  same  persistence. 
But  the  place  was  within  walking  distance  of  their 
work — not  a  short  walk,  but  still  it  could  be  done — 
and  they  could  spend  on  clothes  just  as  large  a  part  of 
five  dollars  weekly  as  they  could  induce  their  stomachs 
to  do  without. 

It  was  getting  late  in  October,  by  this  time,  and 
every  air  the  girls  breathed  was  full  of  "  winter 
clothes" :  the  office  girls  gathered  in  the  washroom 
to  discuss  ulsters;  the  girls  who  sat  across  the  table 
from  Minnie  and  Hazel  at  the  bakery  lunch  place 
joked  merrily  about  cutting  their  food  allowance  to 
the  limit,  because  they  were  saving  to  buy  new  furs 
or  velvet  shoes  or  a  swell  purple  hat;  the  shop  win- 
dows, which  were  one  of  the  chief  sources  of  enter- 
tainment and  delight  to  Minnie  and  Hazel,  were  an 
endless  display  of  gaily  caparisoned  wax  ladies  with 
velveteen  suits  and  plumed  hats  and  furs  whose  be- 
comingness  was  more  alluring  than  their  cold-defy- 
ingness;  the  girls  and  women  in  the  streets  were  be- 
ginning to  flaunt  their  winter  gear;  there  was  no  get- 
ting away  from  the  thing. 

But  the  best  compromise  they  could  make  with  their 
stomachs  did  not  leave  them  quite  three  dollars  a  week 


THE  GIRL  WHO  EARNS  $6  A  WEEK 

for  clothes.  Of  course  they  did  their  own  washing 
and  semi-occasional  ironing;  for  the  former  they  had 
to  buy  naphtha  soap,  because  only  cold  water  was 
available;  for  the  privilege  of  doing  a  bit  of  the  latter 
at  the  landlady's  range  on  Sunday  mornings,  they 
paid  a  dime.  Their  daily  and  Sunday  newspaper 
— which,  obedient  to  one  of  the  wisest  of  her  instincts, 
is  among  the  last  things  a  working  girl  will  deny  her- 
self— cost  them  eleven  cents  weekly.  They  limited 
their  indulgence  in  nickel  shows  to  two  a  week; 
their  candy  allowance  to  rare  half-pounds  from  the 
five-and-ten-cent  stores;  their  carfares  to  nothing  at 
all.  Yet  the  clothes  funds  grew  slowly — very  slowly. 
One  week  Minnie  had  to  have  shoes.  She  bought 
velvet  ones,  which  were  what  her  heart  craved;  but 
even  to  her  far-from-finicky  taste,  they  mocked  her 
battered  hat  and  shabby  suit,  heart-breakingly. 

"  By  the  time  I  get  me  a  suit,  or  a  ulster,  and  a 
good  hat,  the  shoes'll  be  frights,"  Minnie  wailed.  "  I 
can't  get  a  hat  fit  to  look  at  under  $4.98 — that's  two 
weeks  off;  and  by  the  time  I've  got  twelve  or  fifteen 
dollars  saved  for  a  coat  or  suit,  it'll  be  Christmas !  " 

This  dilemma,  disclosed  in  a  burst  of  washroom 
confidence,  led  one  of  the  other  girls  to  ask  Minnie 
why  she  didn't  try  the  installment  plan.  Minnie  was 
dumfounded,  because  she  had  never  thought  of  it. 

[<  The  ninny  I  am !  "  she  cried.  "  An*  me  starin* 
them  ads.  in  the  face  every  day  I  live.  Where's  a 
good  one  o'  them  places  ?  " 


144  THE  WORK-A-DAY  GIRL 

The  girl  recommended  several,  but  one  in  particu- 
lar. "  I  get  everything  there,"  she  went  on.  "  It's  a 
reg'lar  department  store — that  one  is.  Some  is  only 
for  ready-made  clothin'.  But  at  Weffler's  you  can 
buy  shoes  an'  gloves  an'  veils  and  jew'lry  an'  toilet 
articles,  and  anything.  You  have  to  tell  'em  where 
you  work,  an'  how  much  you  get.  I  guess  they  rub- 
ber around  some,  to  make  sure  you  ain't  stringin'  'em. 
Then  you  pay  a  dollar  down,  an'  a  dollar  a  week,  or 


so." 


A  dollar  a  week!  And  wear  your  clothes  while 
you're  paying  for  them !  It  was  a  "  cinch,"  as  Minnie 
said. 

That  evening  she  and  Hazel  could  hardly  think  of 
eating — they  were  so  excited.  They  had  a  hasty 
"  supper  "  of  coffee  and  doughnuts,  and  hurried,  their 
hearts  beating  deliriously,  to  the  big  "  emporium " 
where,  on  the  payment  of  only  "  a  dollar  down,"  they 
would  be  able  to  select  a  winter  wardrobe. 

Hazel  had  determined  on  a  suit,  a  hat,  a  silk  waist, 
a  pair  of  kid  gloves,  velvet  shoes,  and  possibly  a  set 
of  furs.  Minnie  was  charmed  with  the  new  ulsters — 
double- face  cloth  with  self -trimming,  and  big  buttons; 
she  could  see  her  outfit  in  her  mind's  eye :  gray  ulster, 
with  purple  cuffs,  revers,  and  sailor  collar;  purple  hat 
to  match;  purple  kid  gloves;  and  a  purple  messaline 
dress. 

They  spent  nearly  three  hours  in  the  emporium — 
hours  of  pure  ecstasy.  And  they  tried  to  be  prudent 


THE  GIRL  WHO  EARNS  $6  A  WEEK     145 

in  the  face  of  so  much  temptation.  Minnie  sacrificed 
a  velvet  hat  for  a  quite  plain  one  of  felt,  and  forced 
herself  to  turn  from  a  purple  messaline  with  gold  lace 
trimming  to  one  adorned  simply  with  cream-coloured 
net.  Hazel  vacillated  a  long  time  between  fur  and 
feathers,  feeling  that  she  hardly  dared  have  both. 
She  had  on  her  blue  velveteen  suit,  pinned  for  altera- 
tions; and  she  tried  the  effect  of  furs  and  a  plain  hat, 
feathered  hat  and  no  furs,  till  Minnie  declared  Wef- 
fler's  would  charge  her  for  wear  and  tear  on  them  all. 

The  salesgirl  tried  to  help.  "  Are  they  for  best  or 
everyday  wear?"  she  asked. 

"  For  both,"  Hazel  laughed. 

"  Then  I  b'leeve  I'd  take  the  furs  an'  the  plainer 
hat.  An'  I  dunno  but  I'd  git  me  a  cloth  suit.  They 
ain't  so  dressy;  but  if  you  wear  velveteen  to  work  in, 
it  gits  awful  mangy-lookin'." 

"That's  right,"  Minnie  counselled.  "  An'  the 
woman  that  calls  you  down  if  you  wear  too  flossy 
things  might  tell  you  you  couldn't  wear  that  suit  to 
work.  Then  you'd  be  sore !  " 

"  I  hear  they're  doin'  that  now  in  some  places,"  the 
salesgirl  said.  "  O'  course  they  do  it  in  the  depart- 
ment stores.  But  wouldn't  it  jar  you  when  they  get 
t'  doin'  it  in  f act'ries !  " 

"  We  work  in  an  office,"  Minnie  declared  with  dig- 
nity. 

But  Hazel  accepted  the  advice  given  her,  and 
though  the  department  manager  demurred  about  put- 


146  THE  WORK-A-DAY  GIRL 

ting  the  pin-marked  velveteen  back  in  stock  and  tak- 
ing a  double  amount  of  fitter's  time  to  pin  a  cloth  suit, 
he  finally  yielded.  And  Minnie  and  Hazel,  feeling 
that  they  had  been  very  prudent  indeed,  were  not  so 
dismayed  as  they  might  well  have  been,  when  their 
respective  purchases  footed  up  to  $41.75  and 
$42.47. 

On  these  amounts  they  must  pay  at  least  $1.75  a 
week,  and  of  course  they  understood  that  the  longer 
they  took  to  pay  the  more  their  interest  would  mount 
up.  They  hadn't  thought  about  interest;  but  they 
didn't  say  so.  They  agreed,  however,  to  pay  $2.00 
a  week  each.  That  meant  that  by  April,  when  they 
needed  spring  clothes,  they  would  have  the  winter 
ones  paid  for.  It  seemed  providentially  kind  and 
simple — this  "  Weffler's  Way  "  that  they  were  learn- 
ing. 

"  And  if  we  get  up  against  it  fer  underclo'es,  we 
can  get  'em  here — can't  we  ?  "  Minnie  asked. 

"  Surest  thing  you  know,"  was  the  response ;  which 
so  assured  Minnie  that  she  added  fifty  cents  to  her 
bill,  and  ordered  a  bunch  of  artificial  violets  to  put 
the  finishing  touch  of  elegance  to  her  ulster.  Hazel 
refrained  from  a  similar  extravagance;  for  Hazel  had 
not  yet  bought  her  new  hair,  and  her  hat  would  "  look 
fierce  "  until  she  got  it. 

The  new  clothes  were  turned  over  to  them  on  Fri- 
day evening,  and  worn  to  work  on  Saturday — with 
effect  electrical:  two  of  the  best-looking  fellows  in 


THE  GIRL  WHO  EARNS  $6  A  WEEK     147 

the  mailing-cage  asked  Minnie  and  Hazel  to  go  to  sup- 
per with  them  that  evening  "  and  take  in  a  show." 

:<  You  see,"  said  Minnie  when  they  were  back  in 
their  little  room  at  midnight,  "  what  a  difference  a 
few  good  clothes  make !  If  you  want  to  get  any  no- 
tion took  of  you,  you  gotta  have  some  style  about  you. 
And  anyway!  Them  clothes  has  saved  us  some 
money  a'ready — got  us  free  dinners  an'  free  shows — 
an'll  save  us  more.  Say!  that  hamburger  was  bad — 
huh?  My!  I  didn't  know  there  was  anythin'  in  the 
world  as  good  as  that  and  them  German  frys.  Hon- 
est, I  didn't." 

The  attentions  of  the  young  men  continued — not 
often  to  the  extent  of  suppers  and  twenty-cent  shows, 
for  the  young  men  earned  only  $12  a  week,  and  they 
knew  nothing  of  such  self-denying  frugalities  as  Min- 
nie and  Hazel  practised;  but  often  to  the  extent  of 
nickel  shows  and  sometimes  to  the  extent  of  a  Satur- 
day night  dance.  But  it  was  impossible  to  stay  longer 
than  an  hour  at  a  moving-picture  show;  the  November 
nights  were  far  too  chill  to  permit  of  much  comfort 
out  of  doors;  and  one  cannot  dance  every  night  and 
work  every  day,  even  if  one  had  the  price  of  so  many 
dances.  Of  Social  Settlements  and  their  classes  Min- 
nie and  Hazel  knew  nothing.  Minnie  had  a  bitter 
aversion  for  all  benevolence,  born  of  her  experiences 
in  "  Homes  "  that  were  ill-managed.  Hazel  had  no 
prejudices,  but  she  shared  Minnie's  apathy  with  re- 
gard to  self-improvement.  They  had  no  yearning  to 


148  THE  WORK-A-DAY  GIRL 

join  any  kind  of  a  "  class."  They  craved  pleasure, 
and  opportunity  to  exercise  their  feminine  wiles  to 
charm  a  mate.  They  would  dearly  have  loved  a  hay- 
ride  or  a  sleigh-ride,  a  candy-pull  or  a  men's  hat-trim- 
ming contest  with  its  shrieks  of  superior  feminine 
glee.  They  could  have  giggled  coyly  through  "  kiss- 
ing games,"  or  played  merrily  at  tableaux  or  charades; 
have  bobbed  for  apples  at  Hallowe'en,  or  stalked  in 
sheet  and  pillowcase,  mystifying  their  best  friends  by 
comic  devices.  But  none  of  these  innocent  gaieties 
came  within  their  range.  So  they  did  what  they 
could. 

When  Joe  and  Walter  took  them  to  a  nickel  show, 
and  they  were  out  in  the  street  again  at  eight-thirty, 
there  was  just  one  place,  or  one  kind  of  place,  that 
the  boys  knew  of  where  they  could  go :  into  the  back 
or  side  room  of  some  saloon.  If  they  went  to  a  soda 
fountain  they  were  expected  to  drink  hurriedly  and 
give  place  to  others.  But  in  one  of  these  "  family  " 
rooms,  reached  through  the  "  ladies'  entrance,"  they 
could  have  a  table  for  quite  a  while  for  the  price  of 
four  beers.  The  room  was  warm;  usually  there  were 
a  number  of  other  young  people  at  the  other  tables; 
almost  always  there  was  "  something  doing  "  in  the 
way  of  music :  a  phonograph  or  piano-player  with  an 
inexhaustible  repertory  of  ragtime  and  popular  songs; 
sometimes  there  would  be  a  little  impromptu  dancing, 
or  some  fellow  who  had,  or  thought  he  had,  a  voice, 
would  sing  to  the  "  canned  "  accompaniment.  It  was 


THE  GIRL  WHO  EARNS  $6  A  WEEK     149 

gay;  and  at  first  it  looked  as  innocent  as  a  country 
school-house  spelling-bee.  The  girls  did  not  touch 
the  beer  at  first.  Later,  to  avoid  "  bein'  kidded,"  they 
drank  a  little. 

Their  semi-starved  bodies  responded  pleasurably  to 
the  least  bit  of  alcoholic  stimulant;  the  glow  felt  won- 
derfully good  to  them;  and  by  and  by  they  craved 
it — found  themselves  looking  forward  to  "  a 
glass  of  something "  when  their  day's  work  was 
done. 

At  dances  it  sometimes  happened  that  a  fellow  with 
whom  they  had  taken  a  drink  "  got  fresh  " ;  but  the 
girls  "called  him  "  in  no  timid  tones,  and  nearly  al- 
ways he  laughed  it  off,  and  no  offence  was  taken. 
Once  in  a  while  some  unknown,  on  the  street,  or  at  a 
nickel  show,  would  chance  a  "  Hello,  Kiddo,"  but  with 
no  response.  Minnie  and  Hazel  were  happy,  as  girls 
incline  to  be,  with  Joe  and  Walter;  every  work-day 
was  fun,  because  the  boys  worked  beside  them;  sev- 
eral evenings  a  week  were  red-letter  evenings,  spent 
in  a  gay  quartette;  Sundays  nearly  always  had  some 
little  pleasuring.  Two  dollars  a  week  went  regularly 
and  quite  ungrudgingly  to  WefHer;  and  things  were 
going  very  well  indeed,  according  to  the  girls'  idea 
of  things,  when  business  went  into  its  January  slump, 
and  Minnie  and  Hazel  were  both  "  laid  off." 

Things  were  dull  everywhere.  There  is  always 
room  at  the  top,  but  seldom  at  the  bottom  for  all  who 
crowd  there  with  their  meagre  efficiency.  Minnie 


150  THE  WORK-A-DAY  GIRL 

and  Hazel  were  totally  unskilled;  they  had  neither 
special  ability,  nor  general  intelligence.  It  was  a  fore- 
gone conclusion  that  unless  some  intercession  were 
made  for  them,  some  powerful  influence  exerted  in 
their  behalf,  they  would  not  be  re-absorbed  into  the 
world's  work  until  another  seasonal  rush  created  a  de- 
mand for  cheap  "  extras." 

But  they  did  not  realize  this.  Their  experience  was 
exceedingly  limited,  and  no  part  of  their  colossally 
futile  "  education  "  had  dealt  out  to  them  the  most 
fundamental,  kindergarten  ideas  about  supply  and 
demand,  the  uncertainties  of  the  market  for  unskilled 
or  semi-skilled  labour,  or  anything  like  that ;  although 
it  had  caused  them  to  struggle  with  cube-root  and  to 
memorize  a  vast  number  of  grammar  rules  which  had 
no  relation  to  language  as  the  persons  of  their  sphere 
used  it  to  express  themselves,  and  had  held  it  shameful 
not  to  know  the  date  of  Brandy  wine  and  the  gist  of 
the  Monroe  doctrine. 

So  Minnie  and  Hazel  stumbled  more  and  more  de- 
spairingly on;  hunting  for  work  as  best  they  knew 
how  to  hunt,  and  picking  up  what  few  crumbs  of  in- 
formation they  could  get  about  the  labour  situation 
from  other  girls  only  a  degree  "  wiser  "  and  bitterer 
than  themselves.  They  knew  of  no  one  they  could 
go  to  for  advice  or  for  help.  Joe  and  Walter 
"  staked  "  them  to  a  dinner  now  and  then ;  the  land- 
lady was  willing  to  wait  as  long  as  there  seemed  any 
hope  of  the  girls  getting  work  and  paying  her  up — 


THE  GIRL  WHO  EARNS  $6  A  WEEK     151 

but  if  she  let  their  debt  grow  too  huge,  the  probability 
of  their  ever  discharging  it  would  be  remote;  and  she, 
poor  creature,  had  her  main  subsistence  off  what  they 
paid  her.  Quite  promptly,  on  the  failure  of  their 
weekly  payment,  Weffler's  collector  came,  employing 
the  time-honoured  methods  of  "  bawling  out "  and 
threatening.  His  manner  made  the  girls  apprehend 
nothing  less  than  State's  prison  if  their  payments  were 
not  made.  And  no  one  had  ever  instructed  them  as 
to  their  rights,  nor  as  to  their  wrongdoing,  in  a  case 
like  this.  The  same  smirking  complacence  which  had 
taught  them  cube-root,  but  not  usurers'  interest  and 
their  ways  of  collecting  what  the  law  does  not  allow, 
had  taught  them  to  pronounce  the  names  of  places  on 
the  field  of  Waterloo,  but  not  to  reckon  what  is  and 
what  is  not  a  justifiable  debt  to  incur  or,  having  in- 
curred a  debt,  what  is  the  legal  and  what  the  moral 
responsibility  therefor. 

Because  Weffler's  collector  was  so  terrifying  they 
began  to  hate  Weffler;  to  feel  as  if  he  had  entrapped 
them.  They  forgot  how  eager  they  had  been  about 
"  Weffler's  Way,"  and  how  foolhardily  they  had  reck- 
oned their  ability  to  pay.  They  were  hungry.  They 
cooked  coffee,  mornings,  on  the  landlady's  stove,  and 
ate  dry  rolls  for  breakfast.  Luncheon  they  tried  to 
forget  about.  Dinner  was  more  coffee  and  dry  rolls 
unless  the  boys  bought  them  a  meal.  Hungry  crea- 
tures snarl  easily;  and  the  girls  resented  the  pathetic 
eagerness  with  which  the  landlady,  her  wailing  baby 


152  THE  WORK-A-DAY  GIRL 

at  her  flabby  breast,  would  question  them  as  to  the 
result  of  their  day's  seeking;  they  thought  she  was 
trying  to  press  them,  and  they  overlooked  her  need  to 
be  pressing.  Nothing  made  life  even  briefly  endur- 
able except  the  occasional  "  glass  of  something " 
which  the  boys  provided  in  those  back  or  side 
rooms. 

Hungry  creatures  snarl  easily,  and  they  breed  rap- 
idly. Cattle  perishing  of  hunger  on  the  plains,  hu- 
man beings  dying  of  famine  in  India  or  China,  multi- 
ply like  rabbits.  There  are  two  extremes  that  affect 
the  passions:  hunger  and  over- feeding;  but  want 
gnaws  wildly,  and  repletion  tends  to  somnolence. 
Nature  has  no  morals  as  we  define  morality;  and  Na- 
ture in  these  girls  was  crying  for  food  and  crying, 
too,  in  the  interests  of  the  future — crying  that, 
whether  they  lived  or  whether  they  died,  life  should 
go  on,  and  on. 

No  part  of  their  "  education  "  had  taught  them  to 
recognize  that  cry  or  how  to  answer  it.  Blindly  they 
fought  Nature  in  their  waking  hours,  and  while  they 
slept  she  tormented  them  in  dreams.  No  one  stood 
by  to  tell  them  what  it  all  meant,  to  fortify  them  for 
this  so  unequal  fight. 

One  evening  when  they  came  in  from  their  fruit- 
less seeking  they  found  their  landlady  sobbing,  her 
head  buried  in  her  arms  outstretched  upon  the  kitchen 
table.  It  was  Saturday;  "  he  "  had  been  paid  off  at 
four  o'clock,  and  she  had  gone  to  his  place  of  em- 


THE  GIRL  WHO  EARNS  $6  A  WEEK     153 

ployment,  hoping  to  get  some  of  his  wages  before  he 
reached  a  saloon  with  them. 

"  The  rent's  due,  and  I  asked  him  fer  it.  He  cursed 
me  awful,  an'  yelled  out  that  I  should  git  it  from 
youse,"  she  sobbed.  "  I  don't  want  to  press  you  girls. 
I  was  in  your  fix  a  lot  o'  times  before  I  got  married — 
that  was  why  I  took  a  chance  on  him.  Good  God! 
We're  in  fer  it,  whichever  way  we  turn — us 
women !  " 

Sullenly  the  girls  boiled  their  cheap  coffee  and  ate 
their  bread.  They  were  going  to  a  dance  with  the 
boys,  and  they  hoped  that  some  one,  during  the  even- 
ing, would  buy  them  a  little  food  along  with  "  a  glass 
of  something." 

When  Hazel  and  Walter  were  ready  to  start  home 
they  could  not  find  Joe  or  Minnie.  ...  It  was  cold 
winter  dawn-light  when  Minnie  came  in. 

"For  God's  sake  where  you  been?"  Hazel  cried, 
wildly. 

Minnie  flung  herself  on  the  bed  without  un- 
dressing. 

"  Where  I  never  thought  I'd  be !  "  she  laughed  hys- 
terically. "  I've  given  up,  Hazel ;  there  ain't  no  more 
fight  left  in  me.  I  gotta  eat,  and  I  dassent  be  particu- 
lar how  I  do  it.  I  gotta  have  a  bed  to  sleep  on,  and 
I  dassent  be  particular  who  pays  fer  it — because  / 
can't.  Joe  says  he'd  ask  me  to  marry  him,  but  he 
can't — on  twelve  a  week.  So  we're — goin'  to  do  the 
next  best  thing." 


154*  THE  WORK-A-DAY  GIRL 

There  was  a  moment's  silence.  Hazel  understood, 
but  no  immediate  reply  came  to  her. 

"You're  shocked,"  Minnie  taunted,  self-defen- 
sively. 

"  I'm  not,"  Hazel  retorted.  "  I  don't  feel  like  I'm 
any  better'n  you,  or  you're  any  worse'n  me.  That 
ain't  got  nothin'  to  do  with  it,  as  I  can  see.  We're 
up  against  it — you  see  yer  way  out  an'  I  don't  see 
mine — I  don't  blame  you.  I  know  it  ain't  what  you 
would  of  done  if  you  could  of  had  a  show.  But — 
well,  I  guess  it's  just  the  way  you  feel;  you  feel  like 
it  was  worth  that  to  live;  /  don't.  That's  all." 

Minnie  melted.  "  It's  on'y  to  see  me  through," 
she  wept,  her  head  on  Hazel's  shoulder.  "  I  ain't 
goin'  to  stick  to  it  a  minute  longer'n  I  have  to.  When 
the  spring  rush  comes  on  I'm  goin'  back  t'  work.  But 
I  can't  live  on  hopes  an'  virtue." 

"Minnie!" 

Hazel  was  on  her  feet,  staring  wildly,  as  if  some- 
thing had  suddenly  run  amuck  in  her  poor,  dazed 
brain. 

In  the  tenement  hallway,  as  they  talked,  they  had 
heard  the  stumbling,  drunken  footsteps  of  their  land- 
lord. As  Hazel  jumped  to  her  feet,  they  heard  his 
wife's  shrill  scream  of  terror. 

Hazel  clapped  both  hands  to  her  ears,  but  there  was 
no  drowning  out  the  sound  of  blows.  She  toppled 
faintly  toward  the  door,  opened  it,  and  was  gone. 

"  Hazel !     He'll  hurt  you,"  Minnie  screamed.     But 


THE  GIRL  WHO  EARNS  $6  A  WEEK     155 

Hazel  did  not  answer.  Fear-frozen,  Minnie  sat  on 
the  edge  of  their  dingy  bed,  and  waited.  In  a  minute 
or  two,  which  seemed  like  an  eternity,  two  frowsy, 
semi-attired  men  from  the  floor  below,  came  carrying 
Hazel.  They  had  picked  her  up,  a  limp  bit  of  human 
wreckage,  in  the  dark  hallway,  four  floors  below. 


VII 
MINIMUM  WAGE 

THE  last  article  written  by  William  T.   Stead 
for  his  own  publication,  The  Review  of  Re- 
views, and  so  far  as  we  know  the  last  thing 
he  wrote  before  going  down  to  his  death  in  the  Ti- 
tanic, was  on  the  outcome  of  the  recent  coal  strike  in 
England,  and  the  passing  of  the  Minimum  Wage  bill. 
The  concluding  paragraph  of  that  valedictory  ar- 
ticle is  this: 

"When  the  Minimum  bill  was  passing,  a  Scandinavian  ob- 
server in  the  Lobby  said:  'This  is  the  greatest  event  that  has 
happened  since  the  French  Revolution.'  And  a  vision  of  a  new 
Heaven  and  a  new  earth  has  undoubtedly  begun  to  dawn  on 
many  darkened  eyes  all  over  the  world." 

Therewith  a  trenchant  pen  concluded  an  advocacy 
of  more  than  forty  years  in  the  passionate  service  of 
humanity. 

What  is  this  vision  of  a  new  earth  which  is  dawn- 
ing on  darkened  eyes  all  over  the  world  ?  It  is  this : 

"The  body  is  not  one  member,  but  many.  .  .  .  And  whether 
one  member  suffer,  all  the  members  suffer  with  it;  or  one 
member  be  honoured,  all  the  members  rejoice  with  it." 

Or,  as  a  decree  of  the  United  States  Supreme  Court 

reminds  us,  the  welfare  of  the  whole  nation  is  "  no 

156 


MINIMUM  WAGE  157 

greater  than  the  sum  of  all  its  parts  " ;  for  "  when  the 
•  individual  health,  safety,  and  welfare  are  sacrificed  or 
neglected,  the  state  must  suffer." 

We  have  endeavoured  very  valiantly,  especially  in 
the  years  since  the  French  Revolution,  to  palliate  the 
suffering  of  some  members  of  our  social  body.  We 
are  waking  to  a  realization  that  most  of  our  earnest 
charity  is  no  better  than  an  opiate :  it  deadens  pain  but 
does  not  cure  the  cause;  and  it  breeds,  like  all  opiates, 
a  horrid  habit. 

For  a  long  time  we  handed  out  this  palliation  more 
or  less  unquestioningly ;  it  eased  our  consciences,  and 
it  seemed  to  ease  a  little  of  the  world's  want  and  pain 
— for  which  we  felt  so  comfortably  irresponsible! 

Then  we  advanced  in  diagnosis;  we  saw  that  what 
we  have  been  doing  is  a  weak  evasion,  as  if  we  were 
keeping  down  the  pain  of  an  ulcer  with  morphine 
and  disregarding  the  practical  certainty  of  blood- 
poisoning.  We  have  learned,  too,  that  circulation  in 
the  social  system  is  as  circuit-completing  as  in  the 
physical. 

And  now,  because  we  know  we  are  one  body  with 
many  members,  we  are  alarmed  by  the  number  of 
impotent  poultices  we  wear,  and  by  the  danger  of 
blood-poisoning.  We  demand  that  these  poultices  be 
stripped  off;  we  look,  not  without  nausea,  at  the 
sores;  and  we  cry  to  Science  for  a  cure. 

Science  repli.es  to  us  that  a  cure  cannot  be  local: 
it  must  reach  back  to  prime  causes;  that  the  outward 


158  THE  WORK-A-DAY  GIRL 

sore  is  but  the  indication  of  impure  blood,  and  to 
attack  the  sore  without  purifying  the  blood  is  only 
to  leave  the  evil  germs  to  make  a  new  attack.  We 
have  known  this  for  some  time  in  physiology;  we  are 
only  waking  to  it  in  sociology.  And  that  is  the  vision 
of  a  new  earth  which  has  begun  to  dawn. 

People  used  to  believe  that  disease  was  a  dispensa- 
tion from  God.  When  they  learned  that  it  was,  very 
largely,  a  penalty  of  dirt  and  disorder,  we  will  hope 
that  they  apologized  to  the  Deity  for  their  former  im- 
piety. They  used  to  think  that  pestilence  was  "  a 
visitation,"  and  that  it  could  not  be  cured.  Now  we 
know  that  it  can  flourish  only  through  gross  negli- 
gence— and  it  is  practically  eradicated  from  the  civ- 
ilized world.  There  are  still  some  people  who  think 
that  poverty — other  people's  poverty! — is  either  by 
the  will  of  God  or  because  the  poor  "  have  got  all  they 
deserve  ";  and  that  insanity  and  immorality  and  crime 
are  devastating  disorders  that  must  be  endured.  But 
they  are  NOT  !  They  are  the  outcome  of  gross  negli- 
gence; and  they  can  be  as  nearly  eradicated  as  is 
smallpox,  from  which,  also,  the  world  suffered 
through  many  centuries  until  we  learned  how  to  pre- 
vent it! 

And  that  is  why  the  passing  of  the  Minimum  Wage 
bill  was  understandingly  pronounced  the  "  greatest 
event  that  has  happened  since  the  French  Revolu- 
tion." Because  it  proclaims  our  discovery  that,  just 
as  there  was  once  a  degree  of  filth  which  bred  small- 


MINIMUM  WAGE  159 

pox  that  rotted  kings  on  their  thrones  as  well  as  peas- 
ants in  their  huts,  so  there  is  a  degree  of  poverty 
which  breeds  grievous  disorders  that  we  have  no  right 
to  bear  and  every  right  to  eradicate. 

England  has  realized  that  when  the  father  of  a 
family  delved  in  the  bowels  of  the  earth  for  the  coal 
which  is  the  essential  basis  of  England's  prosperity, 
and  got  for  his  long  day  of  fatiguing,  life-endanger- 
ing labour  less  than  five  shillings  ($1.20),  he  was  not 
being  paid  enough  to  sustain  himself  and  his  family 
in  decency  and  safety;  enough  to  maintain  them  in 
health  and  in  surroundings  which  might  encourage 
self-respect  and  discourage  vice,  crime,  and  other  dis- 
orders of  poverty.  What  standard  of  human  effi- 
ciency it  is  possible  to  maintain  on  $7.20  a  week, 
without  obliging  the  wife  to  become  a  wage-earner, 
to  the  neglect  of  her  children,  or  sending  the  children 
to  work  at  the  earliest  moment  the  law  will  allow,  it 
is  not  the  purpose  of  this  one  small  article  to  discuss. 

This  is  an  attempt  to  state  the  urgent  economic 
necessity  of  a  minimum  wage  law  for  women  workers 
in  these  United  States;  of  laws,  rather — for  each 
State  must,  of  course,  make  its  own. 

In  1900  there  were  in  the  United  States,  according 
to  the  reports  of  the  census,  4,833,630  women  bread- 
winners of  16  years  and  over,  or  one  out  of  every 
five  in  the  population.  The  Government  has  under- 
taken to  find  out  all  it  can  about  the  earnings  of 
those  millions  of  women;  how  many  of  them  are  com- 


160  THE  WORK-A-DAY  GIRL 

pletely  self-supporting;  how  many  are  the  partial  or 
sole  support  of  others  besides  themselves;  and  so  on. 
And  on  the  nth  of  May,  1911,  the  Commonwealth 
of  Massachusetts  authorized  its  Governor  to  "  ap- 
point a  commission  of  five  persons,  citizens  of  the 
Commonwealth,  of  whom  at  least  one  shall  be  a 
woman,  one  shall  be  a  representative  of  labour,  and 
one  shall  be  a  representative  of  employers,  to  study 
the  matter  of  wages  of  women  and  minors,  and  to 
report  on  the  advisability  of  establishing  a  board  or 
boards  to  which  shall  be  referred  inquiries  as  to  the 
need  and  feasibility  of  fixing  minimum  rates  of  wages 
for  women  or  minors  in  any  industry."  The  com- 
mission presented  its  report  in  January,  1912. 

The  Massachusetts  census  of  1905  gave  the  total 
number  of  females  gainfully  employed  in  that  State 
as  380,675.  Many  of  these  were  in  the  cotton  textile 
industry,  which  was  admirably  covered  in  the  Fed- 
eral investigation,  and  the  Massachusetts  commission 
made  use  of  these  figures  and  added  to  them  its  own 
investigation  of  three  others :  retail  stores,  candy  fac- 
tories, and  laundries.  "  Thus  altogether,  informa- 
tion, more  or  less  detailed  but  all  of  a  thoroughly  re- 
liable character,  being  based  upon  payrolls  and  first 
hand  inquiries  by  trained  investigators,  was  gathered 
covering  15,278  female  wage-earners  engaged  in  four 
different  occupations  in  the  Commonwealth." 

They  found  that  41  per  cent,  of  the  candy  workers, 
10.2  per  cent,  of  the  saleswomen,  16.1  per  cent,  of 


MINIMUM  WAGE  161 

the  laundry  workers,  and  23  per  cent,  of  the  cotton 
workers  earn  less  than  five  dollars  a  week;  and  that 
65.2  per  cent,  of  the  candy  workers,  29.5  per  cent,  of 
the  saleswomen,  40.7  per  cent,  of  the  laundry  work- 
ers, and  39.9  per  cent,  of  the  cotton  workers  earn  le$s 
than  six  dollars  a  week. 

The  Government  found  that  considerably  more 
than  a  fourth  of  the  store  girls  and  women  and  just 
a  third  of  the  factory  girls  and  women  investigated 
earn  less  than  six  dollars  a  week ;  and  that  more  than 
two-thirds  of  them  earn  less  than  eight  dollars  a  week. 

The  Government  figures  show  that  more  than  one- 
fifth  of  these  girls  and  women  are  completely  self- 
dependent  and  in  many  cases  the  partial  or  whole  sup- 
port of  others  (on  an  average  wage  of  $7.33,  which 
high  average  more  than  a  fourth  of  them  do  not  come 
within  $1.33  of  touching)  ;  and  of  those  who  live  at 
home,  more  than  four-fifths  contribute  their  entire 
earnings  to  the  family  fund. 

"  What,"  asks  the  Government  report,  "  has  this 
condition  to  do  with  the  faith  current  among  so  many 
employers  and  accepted  by  the  public  that  the  girls 
who  have  homes  work  only  for  '  pin-money  '  ?  " 

And  what  constitutes  the  right  of  the  employer  to 
make  his  wages  to  women  on  a  pin-money  basis, 
smugly  replying  to  all  criticism  that  he  knows 
girls  cannot  live  on  the  wages  he  pays  but  that  he 
"  endeavours  to  employ  only  girls  living  at  home  "  ? 

If  a  girl  worker  is  a  member  of  a  family  of  five 


162  THE  WORK-A-DAY  GIRL 

who  all  work  (the  mother  as  housekeeper  for  the 
group)  and  they  live  in  five  rooms  for  which  they 
pay  $3.25  a  week,  her  share  of  the  rent  will  be  65 
cents.  If  the  heat  and  light  cost  $1.50  a  week,  her 
share  will  be  30  cents.  If  the  furniture  cost  $300 
and  the  annual  upkeep  is  $25,  her  share  of  the  in- 
terest on  the  investment  and  of  the  repair  and  re- 
placements will  be  15  cents  a  week.  If  the  cost  of 
food  for  five  is  $10,  her  share  will  be  $2.  And  if 
the  services  of  the  mother  are  reckoned  at  $8  a  week 
(based  on  rates  for  housework,  with  board)  the 
girl's  share  will  be  $1.60.  This  totals  $4.70  which 
a  girl  living  in  a  decent  home  should  contribute  as 
her  share  of  its  support. 

The  same  authorities  (30  prominent  social  workers 
in  conference  on  "  what  it  would  cost  a  woman  of 
average  ability,  initiative,  and  intelligence  when  liv- 
ing at  home,  and  also  when  living  away  from  home, 
to  secure  the  necessary  comforts  of  life  ")  estimated 
the  fair  personal  expenses  of  such  a  worker  to  be: 

Carfares      ..........  $0.52 

Clothes        ..........     1.92 

Dentistry,  doctor's  fees,  medicine,  oculist  .....  52 

Recreation  and  vacation      .         .         ......  54 

Education  (papers,  magazines)   .......  07 

Church         .        .        .........  TO 


This  would  put  the  minimum  wage  for  such  a 
worker  at  $8.37  a  week  exclusive  of  savings  or  in*- 
surance,  and  taking  for  granted  52  weeks  of  pay  — 


MINIMUM  WAGE  163 

which  only  a  small  fraction  of  all  these  workers 
receive. 

So  that  if  an  employer  hires  a  girl  or  woman,  a 
member  of  an  average  family  who  live  in  a  tenement 
even  as  decent  as  can  be  rented  for  $14  a  month,  and 
knows  that  she  is  one  of  four  wage-earners  none  of 
whom  contributes  less  than  $4.70  a  week  to  the 
family  support,  he  can  justify  himself  in  paying  her 
less  than  $8.37  a  week  ^only  by  denying  her  right  to 
spend  $100  a  year  on  clothes,  or  $27  a  year  on  the 
preservation  of  her  health,  or  a  little  more  than  that 
on  a  two  weeks'  vacation  and  fifty  weeks  of  such 
recreation  as  can  be  bought  for  twenty-five  cents  a 
week.  Yet  few  girls  working  for  a  low  weekly  wage 
live  in  families  where  there  are  three  other  continu- 
ously employed  workers  none  of  whom  contributes 
less  than  $4.70  to  the  family  budget.  And  57.5  per 
cent,  of  store  employes  and  74.3  per  cent,  of  factory 
workers  earn  less  than  $8  a  week. 

For  the  girl  or  woman  not  living  at  home,  the  fol- 
lowing estimate  was  made: 

Rent  and  carfare $3.00 

Food 4.60 

Laundry .&5  ftyjjjj^ 

Clothes         .  ...  ....     1.92    * 

Dentistry,  doctor's  fees,  medicine  and  oculist's  fees  .        .      .42 

Recreation  and  vacation 54 

Church 10 

Education  (newspapers) 07 

Total  $10.60 


164  THE  WORK-A-DAY  GIRL 

Here,  again,  is  no  margin  for  unemployment,  sick- 
ness, accident,  nor  for  saving  toward  old  age;  nor 
for  those  contributions  to  needy  relatives  which 
almost  every  self-supporting  woman  makes. 

In  determining  what  rent  a  woman  should  be  able 
to  pay  to  maintain  her  efficiency  and  her  self-respect, 
the  conference  decided  that: 

"  She  should  have  a  window  in  her  room. 

"  She  should  have  a  room  larger  than  a  hall  bedroom  because 
this  room  is  her  home,  where  she  receives  her  friends  of  both 
sexes  and  passes  her  leisure. 

"  She  should  have  a  heated  room,  and  not  have  to  rely  on 
an  oil  or  gas  stove  for  heat,  on  account  of  her  health. 

"The  standard  should  not  require  her  to  live  in  one  room 
with  another  woman.  She  may  prefer  to  do  so,  but  most  wage- 
earners  over  twenty-five,  where  they  can  possibly  do  so,  room 
alone,  showing  a  willingness  to  sacrifice  other  things  for  privacy." 

Rooms  of  this  sort,  comfortably  furnished,  lighted, 
and  heated,  in  respectable  rooming  houses  within 
walking  distance  of  industrial  centres,  are  hard  to 
find  for  less  than  $3.00  a  week. 

"  The  principles  considered  in  determining  a  standard  of  food 
were  that  it  should  be  sufficient  in  quantity,  quality,  and  variety, 
to  preserve  health." 

Four  dollars  a  week  for  food  allows  15  cents  each 
for  breakfast  and  luncheon,  and  25  cents  for  dinner, 
with  15  cents  a  week  for  fruit  or  other  extras. 

"  Board  and  lodging  with  heat  and  light  would  be  $7.00  a 
week  at  the  lowest  in  a  decent  boarding  house  with  a  standard 
room."  (This  was  based  on  Boston  prices.  They  are  hardly 
lower  in  any  of  the  principal  cities,  although  they  would  be 
considerably  less  in  small  communities.) 


MINIMUM  WAGE  165 

The  laundry  allowance  is  based  on  the  presump- 
tion that  the  girl  will  wash  her  own  handkerchiefs, 
stockings,  flannels,  and  send  away  principally  shirt- 
waists and  a  limited  supply  of  muslin  underwear. 

With  one  hundred  dollars  a  year  to  spend  for 
clothing  a  worker  who  refrains  from  the  tax  on  her 
strength  of  more  sewing  at  night  than  is  necessitated 
by  mending  and  remodelling  will  have  to  be  an  intel- 
ligent buyer  to  make  a  good  appearance  on  that  dress 
allowance.  The  St.  George's  Working  Girls'  Club 
of  New  York  City  estimated  $65.85  as  the  smallest 
practicable  yearly  expenditure  for  clothing  for  a  self- 
supporting  girl  in  New  York.  But  they  reckoned  on 
two  pairs  of  $2  shoes,  which  is  insufficient  for  most 
girls ;  and  their  allowance  was  based  on  such  items  as 
"  i  flannel  petticoat,  25  cents;  4  corset  covers  at  25 
cents,  $i ;  2  combination  suits  at  50  cents,  $i ;  and  so 
on — including  two  hats  at  $2.50,  $5."  Whereas  in 
the  Working  Girls'  Budgets  tabulated  by  Mrs.  Clark 
and  Miss  Wyatt  ("Making  Both  Ends  Meet")  few 
girls  were  found  who  were  able  to  dress  themselves 
for  $65  a  year,  even  when  they  earned  much  less  than 
the  $8  a  week  which  the  St.  George's  Club  estimated 
as  the  smallest  wage  on  which  a  girl  could  live  in 
decent  comfort  and  have  a  margin  of  $65  for  clothes. 

And  this  brings  us  to  the  question  propounded: 
"Who  pays  the  deficit?" 

From  $8  to  $10  is  the  variously  computed  mini- 
mum at  which  a  woman  or  girl  worker  may  maintain 


166  THE  WORK-A-DAY  GIRL 

efficiency  by  affording  herself  "  the  necessary  com- 
forts of  life."  Less  than  a  third  of  our  women  or 
girl  workers  earn  so  much  as  $8  a  week.  Who  pays 
the  deficit? 

If  the  underpaid  girl  lives  at  home,  and  contributes 
less  than  her  fair  share  of  the  family  expense,  her 
father — if  she  has  one,  and  he  is  working  and  paying 
all  that  he  earns  for  day-to-day  family  upkeep — 
pays  part  of  the  deficit,  either  by  having  to  forego 
saving  for  his  old  age,  or  by  a  continued  denial  of 
his  desire  for  comforts. 

The  average  workingman  has  reached  the  zenith  of 
his  earning  powers  long  before  he  has  a  child  old 
enough  to  go  to  work.  He  has  probably,  while  sup- 
porting a  wife  and  three  or  four  or  more  children,  been 
able  to  make  no  provision  for  those  days  of  declining 
industrial  worth  which  set  in  so  comparatively  early 
for  him.  When  his  daughter  goes  to  work,  she 
should  be  able  to  relieve  the  strain  by  a  little  more 
than  the  cost  of  her  keep;  but  she  should  be  able  to 
do  it  without  those  hardships  of  renunciation  to  which 
so  very  many  of  our  young  workers  are  driven  by 
their  parents'  desperate  desire  to  save  against  old 
age. 

The  girl's  mother  pays  part  of  the  deficit  if  the 
household  budget  is  too  small  to  provide  her  with  a 
share  of  unchallenged  income  for  her  personal  de- 
sires. 

The  girl's  younger  brothers  and  sisters  pay  a  part 


MINIMUM  WAGE  167 

of  the  deficit  if  they  have  to  be  hurried  into  the  wage- 
earning  ranks  the  moment  the  law  will  allow,  re- 
gardless of  whether  they  are  fitted  to  take  a  place 
in  industry  that  may  give  them  a  good  opportunity 
for  competence.  (About  90  per  cent,  of  the  boys 
and  even  more  of  the  girls  who  leave  school  at  or 
under  fourteen  to  go  to  work  enter  industries  whose  av- 
erage weekly  wage  for  all  employes  is  under  $10. 
And  so  great  a  commonwealth  as  Massachusetts  has 
to  admit  that  only  2  per  cent,  of  her  army  of  child- 
workers  are  in  high-grade  industries  where  they  can 
hope  to  maintain  themselves  and,  eventually,  their 
families  in  decent  comfort.) 

And  the  girl  herself  pays  the  deficit  in  many  ways. 
She  almost  undoubtedly  pays  part  of  it  in  too-crowded 
living  quarters  where  she  has  no  parlour  to  which 
she  can  bring  her  friends  (obliging  her  to  have  her 
social  life  in  the  amusement  parks  and  dance  halls 
and  skating  rinks  and  on  the  crowded  streets,  all 
beyond  the  guardianship  of  her  parents)  and  where 
she  sleeps  in  a  small,  perhaps  unventilated,  room  with 
one  or  two  other  members  of  the  family.  The  phys- 
ical drain  of  modern  industry,  with  its  constantly  in- 
creasing tendency  toward  "  speeding  up/'  is  frightful. 
And  the  recuperation  so  desperately  needed  is  hard 
to  get  in  such  sleeping  quarters  as  the  vast  majority 
of  underpaid  working  girls  are  herded  into.  She 
pays  it  in  insufficient  food,  quite  certainly.  (Pro- 
fessor Frank  Underhill  of  Yale  estimates  that  of 


168  THE  WORK-A-DAY  GIRL 

families  with  less  than  $600  income  76  per  cent,  are 
underfed;  they  eat  actually  less  than  enough  to  repair 
the  waste  of  tissues  and  supply  heat  and  energy.) 
Or,  if  she  does  not  pay  in  hunger  for  food,  she  must 
pay  in  hunger  for  pretty  clothes  and  for  girlish  pleas- 
ures, as  Well  as  in  foregoing  a  vacation  and  probably 
in  neglecting  her  teeth  or  other  things  necessary  to 
her  health. 

And  when  the  girl  is  idle  (as  the  "  seasonal  "  nature 
of  many  industries  causes  so  many  thousands  of  girls 
to  be  for  weeks  out  of  every  year)  the  family  pays  the 
deficit  in  supporting  the  girl  whose  inadequate  wages 
have  left  her  nothing  to  save.  If  she  is  ill,  the  family 
pays  if  it  can — if  not,  the  community  pays  with  its 
clinics  and  hospitals. 

The  "  girl  adrift,"  as  the  Government  characterizes 
the  girl  not  living  at  home  and  solely  dependent  on 
her  own  resources,  pays  the  deficit  in  hunger  of  some 
sort,  if  not  of  many  sorts.  Most  commonly  she  pays 
it  in  hunger  for  food.  If  she  does  not  do  this,  she 
denies  herself  many  little  indulgences  in  dress  and 
pleasure,  which  denial  is  more  than  likely  to  make  her 
bitter  in  heart. 

She  pays  in  health  if  she  tries  to  save  in  the  price 
of  lodging;  if  she  wearies  herself  by  working  at  night, 
washing  and  ironing,  mending  and  making,  to  present 
a  decent  appearance  without  sacrifice  of  sufficient 
food;  if  she  neglects  her  eyes  or  her  teeth  because 
she  cannot  afford  to  have  them  attended  to;  if  she 


MINIMUM  WAGE  169 

cannot  give  herself  a  restful  vacation;  if  she  is  ner- 
vous, yet  forces  herself  to  keep  down  her  room-rent 
by  having  a  room-mate  whose  tastes  clash  with  hers; 
and  so  on. 

Sometimes  she  pays  that  deficit  in  morals;  not 
because  she  is  weaker  than  she  should  be,  but  because 
the  pressure  upon  her  is  much  stronger  than  it  has 
any  right  to  be.  Where  she  resists,  she  shows  a 
sturdy  power  far,  far  beyond  what  I  dare  to  believe 
I  should  have  under  equal  pressure,  to  be  met  with 
equal  advantages.  When  she  falls,  it  is  seldom  if 
ever  for  clothes,  or  even  for  food — in  the  first  in- 
stance. She  falls  because  she  thinks  some  fellow 
loves  her;  and  the  strongest  desire  in  her  is,  by 
Nature's  ordering,  the  desire  for  love.  Afterward— 
when  she  feels  that,  having  begun,  she  may  as  well 
go  on — she  may  cold-bloodedly  acknowledge  to  her- 
self, and  even  to  you,  that  she  is  "  in  it "  for  fun  or 
for  feathers.  But  the  vilest  vulture  that  preys  on 
the  weakness  of  girls  will  admit  that  they  must  prac- 
tically always  be  wooed  to  the  downward  path  with 
some  pretence  of  love. 

And,  lastly,  the  community  pays  that  deficit — in 
part.  The  community  helps  to  ease  the  mind  of 
many  employers  every  time  it  contributes  toward  the 
support  of  some  Home  where  girls  adrift  may  board 
for  $2.50  or  for  $3  a  week.  There  are  never  enough 
of  these  places  to  house  one  in  a  hundred  of  the  girls 
adrift.  But  without  troubling  to  find  that  out,  or  to 


170  THE  WORK-A-DAY  GIRL 

remember  it  if  the  fact  has  been  called  to  his  atten- 
tion, the  salary-paring  superintendent,  eager  to  make 
a  great  showing  for  his  hundred-million-dollar 
boss,  goes  on  hiring  girls  at  wages  no  girl  can  live 
on;  and,  if  reprehended,  retorts  that  "there  are 
plenty  of  Homes  where  they  can  get  board  for  $2.50 
a  week." 

The  community  pays  the  deficit  of  those  girls  in 
other  ways ;  in  fresh  air  charities  and  vacation  funds ; 
in  tubercular  asylums;  in  clinics  and  hospitals;  in 
Homes  for  the  Aged  Poor,  and  for  the  friendless ;  in 
Juvenile  and  Night  Courts;  in  Maternity  Homes  and 
Erring  Women's  Refuges;  in  industrial  schools;  and 
sometimes  in  prisons  and  houses  of  correction.  Only 
8  per  cent,  of  the  women  in  our  penal  institutions  are 
serious  offenders;  the  others  are  what  are  known  as 
"  accidental  or  occasional "  criminals,  and  those  that 
have  come  out  of  the  industrial  world  have  come, 
almost  without  exception,  out  of  the  ranks  of  the 
poorly  paid. 

For  an  employer  to  answer  his  workers,  and  you 
and  me,  that  he  cannot  afford  to  make  up  any  of  this 
deficit  is  no  excuse.  As  the  report  of  the  Massachu- 
setts Commission  says :  "  If  an  industry  is  perma- 
nently dependent  for  its  existence  on  underpaid 
labour,  its  value  to  the  Commonwealth  is  question- 
able." 

But  few,  if  any,  industries  are  so  dependent.  The 
cost  of  labour  in  a  pound  of  chocolates  which  whole- 


MINIMUM  WAGE  171 

sale  at  fifty  cents  is  from  4  to  5%  cents.  What  part 
of  the  other  45  cents  may  be  charged  to  the  cost  of 
materials,  overhead  charges,  and  cost  of  doing  busi- 
ness I  do  not  attempt  to  say ;  although  it  seems  doubt- 
ful that  a  manufacturer  would  let  them  total  much 
more  than  four  times  the  cost  of  labour — which  would 
still  leave  him  a  net  profit  of  100  per  cent. 

A  company  owning  a  number  of  five-and-ten-cent 
stores,  and  wishing  to  increase  its  capital  stock, 
assured  prospective  shareholders  that: 

"  Five-cent  articles  cost  $2.50  to  $5.50  per  gross, 
and  ten-cent  articles  $5.50  to  $11  per  gross,  showing 
a  profit  of  33  per  cent,  to  188  per  cent,  on  the  cost.'* 

Yet  there  is  almost  no  other  labour  in  the  country 
so  poorly  paid  as  that  of  the  overworked  girls  in  the 
five-and-ten-cent  stores. 

Boston  finds  that  more  than  12  per  cent,  of  its  girls 
and  women  employed  in  retail  businesses  receive  help 
from  organized  charity.  The  percentage  would 
probably  be  higher  in  some  other  cities.  Think  of 
this,  the  next  time  you  pride  fully  escort  a  country 
cousin  through  one  of  your  city's  many-million-dollar 
department  stores.  Think  of  it,  you  in  the  small 
town,  the  next  time  you  gloat  over  a  "  bargain  "  in 
your  five-and-ten-cent  store. 

The  man-of -many-millions  who  owns  an  ocean-to- 
ocean  chain  of  five-and-ten-cent  stores  cannot  answer 
you  that,  out  of  his  hundred  per  cent,  gross  profit,  he 
is  unable  to  pay  his  girl  employes  a  living  wage.  He 


172  THE  WORK-A-DAY  GIRL 

must  answer,  if  you  can  get  him  to  answer  at  all,  that 
while  the  wage  he  pays  f(  may  not  be  "  half  enough 
to  subsist  on,  it  is  all  the  girls  are  worth  to  him,  and 
that  he  never  has  the  slightest  difficulty  in  getting 
plenty  of  girls  to  work  for  it. 

And  as  long  as  the  Law  allows  him  to  so  do,  he 
may  take  advantage  of  its  latitude  and  try  to  cut  the 
throats  of  such  competitive  merchants  as  have  seen 
a  vision  of  a  new  day  and  are  endeavouring  to  live  by 
it.  Even  in  the  days  when  sea-piracy  was  at  its  worst 
there  was  a  preponderance  of  men  whose  consciences 
were  infinitely  above  such  villainy.  But  it  was  grimly 
enforced  Law  on  the  high  seas  that  put  down  piracy 
— and  not  the  example  of  the  conscientious. 

A  noble  example  of  enlightened  and  high-minded 
merchandizing  has  recently  been  given  in  Boston, 
where  the  following  circular  was  issued  : 


MINIMUM  WAGE  SCALE 

EFFECTIVE   BEGINNING   MARCH    I,    IQI2 

Much  work  has  been  done  by  our  employes,  by  the 
Filene  Co-operative  Association,  and  by  the  Manage- 
ment to  increase  the  efficiency  of  our  force.  In  view 
of  this  and  also  of  the  needs  of  our  coming  New 
Store,  we  believe  the  time  has  come  when  we  can 
justly  and  for  the  benefit  of  the  business  make  the 
following  announcement : 


MINIMUM  WAGE  173 

The  study  of  conditions  has  convinced  the  man- 
agement that  a  female  must  have  a  wage  of  at  least 
$8.00  to  pay  her  way,  living  even  very  moderately. 
While  a  great  part  of  our  female  force  now  receives 
more  than  $8.00  a  week  (our  saleswomen,  for  in- 
stance, averaging  $10.00),  we  have  apprentices,  bun- 
dle desk  girls,  examiners,  etc.,  who  now  get  less  than 
$8.00  per  week. 

With  this  in  mind,  and  believing  that  every  one 
in  our  employ  can  make  themselves  worth  $8.00  a 
week,  beginning  March  i,  we  shall  establish  a  Mini- 
mum Wage  of  $8.00  a  week  for  females,  and,  on  a 
sliding  scale,  a  Minimum  Wage  of  $6.00  a  week  for 
males  (boys,  etc.),  under  the  following  votes  of  the 
Board  of  Managers 


That  beginning  March  first,  1912,  no  female 
in  our  employ  shall  receive  a  fixed  wage  of  less 
than  eight  dollars  ($8.00)  per  week.  Any  tem- 
porary female  employe  hired  for  a  period  of  less 
than  a  week  shall  receive  a  wage  of  not  less  than 
$1.50  per  day. 

No  male  employe  shall  receive  a  fixed  wage 
of  less  than  $6.00  per  week  for  the  first  six 
months  of  employment,  of  less  than  $7.00  per 
week  for  the  second  six  months,  nor  of  less  than 
$8.00  per  iveek  if  employed  for  one  year  or 
longer.  Male  employes  engaged  for  a  period  of 


174  THE  WORK-A-DAY  GIRL 

less  than  one  week  shall  receive  a  wage  of  not 
less  than  $1.00  per  day. 

BOARD  OF  MANAGERS, 

F.  W.  TULLY,  Chairman. 

This  is  an  answer  better  far  than  any  argument 
you  or  I  could  make  to  the  reiteration  that  four  and 
five  dollar  wages  are  all  that  it  is  practicable  to  pay, 
in  view  of  competition  among  employers  and  of  the 
over-supply  of  cheap  help;  and  that  such  wages  are 
all  that  the  girls  who  receive  them  can  possibly  make 
themselves  worth  to  the  firm. 

Kindly  note  the  declaration  of  the  managers  of 
this  big  department  store,  that  they  believe  there  is 
no  apprentice,  bundle  wrapper,  or  other  girl  in  their 
employ  who  cannot  make  herself  worth  $8.00  a  week ; 

AND  THEN  NOTE  THAT  AS  A  FIRST  STEP  TOWARD  SUCH 
EFFICIENCY  THEY  PAY  HER  THE  EIGHT  DOLLARS! 

They  do  this  not  because  they  want  to  make  a  noble 
test  of  a  noble  theory;  but  because  their  experience 
in  the  results  of  fair  treatment  for  their  workers  jus- 
tifies them  in  their  expectation  that  this  announce- 
ment will  be  "  for  the  benefit  of  the  business." 

That  is  enlightened  common  sense.  It  is,  however, 
too  much  enlightenment  to  expect  from  some,  save 
under  compulsion. 

So,  when  your  Association  of  Commerce,  or  your 
City  Club,  or  your  Federation  of  Women's  Clubs,  or 
whatever  agency  for  social  betterment  is  yours,  gets 


MINIMUM  WAGE  175 

before  your  legislature  a  bill  to  establish  a  Minimum 
Wage  Board,  you  write  to  your  assemblyman  and  to 
your  state  senator,  and  say: 

"  I'm  tired  of  paying  my  share  of  the  deficit.  I  am  tired  of 
seeing  working  women  and  their  families  paying  their  far 
heavier  share  of  it.  /  want  that  bill  passed" 

And  when  your  assemblyman  or  your  senator  dis- 
regards your  plea  and  argues  in  defence  of  his  act 
that  the  appointment  of  Minimum  Wage  Boards  is 
"of  doubtful  constitutionality/'  reply  to  him  by  the 
next  mail  that  you  will  welcome  any  amendment  to 
the  Constitution  which  may  make  it  more  conform- 
able to  the  spirit  of  the  times. 

If,  then,  he  hedges  by  declaring  that  such  wage 
arbitration  cannot  be  made  practicable,  refer  him  to 
what  has  been  accomplished  in  Australia  and  New  Zea- 
land, and  in  England  even  before  the  coal  strike. 

Then,  when  you  have  helped  to  get  such  a  law 
passed,  do  not  think  to  rest!  The  making  of  laws 
is  comparatively  easy;  the  enforcement  of  them  is 
enormously  difficult.  The  success  of  such  a  law  will 
lie  with  the  number  and  the  vigilance  of  the  volun- 
teers who  will  make  its  enactment  their  business. 
Don't  let  it  become  another  of  those  dead-letter  laws 
for  which  humanitarians  have  fought  valiantly. 

Your  power  and  mine  seem  dishearteningly  lim- 
ited against  some  abuses,  but  here  at  least  we  can  do 
a  good  deal.  To  a  producer  or  a  merchant  every 


176  THE  WORK-A-DAY  GIRL 

purchaser  is  sovereign;  every  buyer's  good  opinion  is 
courted;  no  customer  is  affronted  if  he  can  possibly 
be  pleased.  It  is  a  long  way  from  us  to  the  repre- 
sentatives who  make  our  laws — and  much  lies  be- 
tween. It  is  a  short  way  from  us  to  the  man  who 
wooes  our  wages  and  courts  our  trade.  Good  lusty 
public  opinion  will  reach  him  promptly. 

See  to  it  that  the  minimum  wage  board  bill  is 
passed  in  your  State. 

If  you  are  not  benevolent,  do  this  because  you  are 
selfish.  If  you  are  not  selfish,  do  it  because  you  are 
benevolent. 

Remember  that  "whether  one  member  suffer,  all  the  members 
suffer  with  it;  or  one  member  be  honoured,  all  the  members 
rejoice  with  it." 

Or,  as  Jane  Addams  says :  "  The  best  speculative 
philosophy  sets  forth  the  solidarity  of  the  human 
race;  the  highest  moralists  have  taught  that,  without 
the  advance  and  improvement  of  the  whole,  no  man 
can  hope  for  any  lasting  improvement  in  his  own 
moral  or  material  individual  condition." 

The  seers  have  had  this  vision  from  aforetime. 
But  now,  as  Stead  declared  with  his  final  words,  it 
"  has  undoubtedly  begun  to  dawn  on  many  darkened 
eyes  all  over  the  world." 


BEING  PREPARED  TO  EARN  THEIR  LIVING. 

These  little  girls  will  never  wander  about  looking  for  "  Girl 
Wanted  "  signs.  They  are  heing  taught,  in  a  public  trade  school, 
to  make  straw  hats.  They  will  probably  have  jobs  awaiting 
them,  and  they  will  not  have  to  start  on  apprentice  pay. 


VIII 
MAMIE'S  DEFICIT 

ON  the  way  home  from  school  in  the  afternoon 
Mamie  met  Rose  Smulska,  who  used  to  live 
"  upstairs  of  "  Mamie. 

"  Ain't  you  workin'  ?  "  Mamie  asked. 

"  No;  I'm  laid  off.  It's  fierce.  My  pa's  sick  all 
winter." 

"Can't  you  git  you  another  job?" 

"  I'm  lookin'.  But  this  here's  a  slack  time ;  there 
ain't  hardly  nobody  hirin'.  I  chase  aroun'  all  I  can 
without  spendin'  carfare.  But  gee!  you  git  sore 
when  you  been  turned  down  about  ten  times  a 
day." 

"  I'm  goin'  to  be  fourteen  by  May,"  Mamie  said. 
"  I  hope  they'll  be  hirin'  good  then." 

"  You  can't  never  tell,"  Rose  answered.  "  I  s'pose 
you'll  stay  in  school  till  June ;  won't  you  ?  " 

Mamie  didn't  know.  Some  one  had  told  her  that 
it  would  be  better  to  hunt  a  job  as  soon  as  she  was 
fourteen  and  could  get  a  "  stif'kit,"  because  at  the 
end  of  June  there  are  thousands  of  fourteen-year-old 
girls  looking  for  jobs — either  vacation  or  steady  jobs. 

"That's  right,"  Rose  agreed,  gravely.  "I'll  tell 
you  what,  though!  If  I  was  you,  I'd  stay  in  school 

177 


178  THE  WORK-A-DAY  GIRL 

up  to  sixteen,  if  you  can.     I  b'lieve  you  git  better 

chances." 

,   Mamie  shook  her  head. 

"  I  don't  know's  I  can,"  she  said.  "  But  in  some 
ways  I'd  like  to.  I'm  pretty  good  at  learnin';  I'm  in 
seventh  grade  already.  Teacher's  awful  nice;  but 
the  eighth  grade  teacher  ain't — the  kids  hate  her; 
maybe  I  wouldn'  learn  good  next  year,  anyways." 

Rose  looked  at  her  as  one  old  in  experience  looks 
at  the  young  who  are  so  blissfully  ignorant.  Rose 
was  sixteen  and  had  been  a  wage-earner  for  two 
years. 

"  Take  it  from  me,"  she  counselled,  "  there  ain't 
no  teacher  that's  in  it  with  most  foreladies  fer  bein' 
mean.  Teachers  dassen't  be  as  mean  as  foreladies 
dast!" 

"  Dassent  they?"   Mamie  echoed,  apprehensively. 

"You  bet  not!" 

This  was  putting  upon  wage-earning  a  new  aspect 
for  Mamie,  who  had  thought  of  it  as  a  delightful  ad- 
venture, even  apart  from  the  crowning  feature,  the 
pay  envelope.  She  was  still  pondering  when  she 
reached  home. 

Mamie's  father  was  a  teamster.  He  earned  twelve 
dollars  a  week  when  he  "  was  on  reg'lar,"  and  he  was 
a  bit  more  than  ordinarily  steady  in  his  habits  and 
successful  in  getting  jobs  and  fortunate  in  the  posses- 
sion of  health.  Once  he  had  had  pneumonia,  and 
since  then  he  had  to  be  a  little  more  careful  about 


MAMIE'S  DEFICIT  179 

exposure ;  and  every  winter  he  was  more  or  less  both- 
ered with  rheumatism.  But  he  was  a  perfect  tower 
of  health  and  strength  compared  with  most  of  the 
men  of  his  age  in  their  tenement,  their  neighbour- 
hood. In  consequence  of  this,  and  of  the  compara- 
tively small  amounts  he  spent  on  beer  and  tobacco, 
his  family  lived  on  a  far  more  even  plane  of  comfort 
than  most  of  the  families  they  knew. 

They  paid  eleven  dollars  a  month  for  their  four 
rear  rooms.  That  was  more  than  they  could  afford; 
but  Mrs.  Costello  (Mamie's  ma)  could  not  find  a 
three-room  flat,  and  though  there  were  four-room 
flats  to  be  had  for  nine  dollars,  they  were  few  and 
highly  undesirable — in  damp  basements,  in  old  frame 
houses  impossible  to  heat  in  winter,  or  at  great  dis- 
tance from  Joe's  work.  (This  was  in  Chicago,  where 
rents,  especially  tenement  rents,  are  very  much  lower 
than  in  New  York.)  So  they  took  the  eleven-dollar 
rooms  and  sub-let  one  of  them,  or  a  part  of  one,  as 
they  could.  Mrs.  Costello  had  tried  various  kinds  of 
lodgers  and  boarders.  Sometimes  she  let  the  room, 
without  board,  to  a  man,  for  two  dollars  a  week. 
This  would  have  been  an  ideal  arrangement  if  some 
of  the  lodgers  had  not  been  obstreperous  when  they 
were  drunk,  and  some  had  not  been  lecherous  when 
they  were  sober,  and  some  had  not  been  bad  pay — 
and  so  on.  Two  or  three  experiences  had  made  Mrs. 
Costello  think  fearfully  for  Mamie  and  Nellie — and 
she  let  her  room,  next,  to  "  a  widow  lady  "  who  paid 


180  THE  WORK-A-DAY  GIRL 

only  a  dollar  and  a  quarter  a  week  and,  having  few 
interests  of  her  own,  had  too  many  of  her  neighbours' 
and  was  in  consequence  exasperatingly  "  incompat- 
ible." Sometimes  she  had  a  boarder — a  boy  earning 
small  wages,  whom  she  lodged  in  the  room  with  her 
own  two  boys,  and  fed  for  $2.50  or  $3.00  a  week; 
or  a  working  girl  who  roomed  with  Mamie  and  Nellie 
and  paid  a  like  sum. 

The  flat  was  like  most  four-room  flats  in  tenement 
houses  of  the  cheaper  class :  it  had  two  fair-sized 
rooms  and  off  each  of  them  a  small  bedroom.  One 
of  the  fair-sized  rooms  was  the  kitchen;  the  other  was 
"  the  rentin'  room."  The  disposition  of  the  family 
in  their  available  sleeping-space  depended  on  "  who 
had  the  rentin'  room,"  because  (as  is  usually  the  case) 
the  small  room  off  it  had  no  communication  with 
the  kitchen  and  other  small  room,  except  through  the 
"  rentin'  room."  If  there  was  a  man  lodger,  Mrs. 
Costello  put  Joe  and  the  boys  in  that  "  front "  bed- 
room, took  Nellie  and  Annie  in  with  her,  and  made 
Mamie  a  shake-down  in  the  kitchen.  If  the  lodger 
were  female,  she  and  two  of  the  girls  would  move 
into  the  "  front "  room  and  leave  the  kitchen  bedroom 
to  Joe  and  the  boys.  If  they  had  a  boy-boarder,  it 
was  awkward  and  unpleasant  because  either  Mamie 
and  Nellie,  or  Mrs.  Costello  and  Annie,  had  to  go 
back  and  forth  through  the  boy's  room  to  the  kitchen. 
A  girl  boarder  was  better,  for  some  reasons,  but  still 
a  disturber  of  family  life,  because  Mr.  Costello  was 


MAMIE'S  DEFICIT  181 

separated  from  his  wife  and  relegated  with  the  boys 
to  the  kitchen-quarters.  Mrs.  Costello  was  usually, 
now  that  all  her  children,  except  possibly  Annie,  were 
of  age  when  the  decencies  should  be  considered,  at 
her  wits'  end  to  know  how  to  parcel  out  her  flock 
and  get  from  that  "  rentin'  room "  something  con- 
siderable toward  the  rent. 

This  may  seem  like  a  good  deal  of  consideration 
to  devote  to  the  Costellos'  housing  problem;  but  in 
reality  it  is  far  too  little — as  I  hope  presently  to  help 
you  to  see. 

When  Mamie  came  in  from  school,  her  mother 
was  ironing.  The  day  was  damp  and  chill — Winter 
was  lingering  in  the  lap  of  Spring.  Mr.  Costello's 
thick  woolen  underwear  had  not  dried  out  of  doors, 
and  it  was  hanging  on  a  line  in  the  kitchen,  along 
with  Annie's  "  galatea "  dress,  and  Mrs.  Costello's 
gray  cotton-flannel  petticoat,  and  sundry  other  slow- 
drying  things.  The  room  smelled  of  soap-suds — of 
those  that  had  "  boiled  over  "  onto  the  stove,  and  of 
those  Mrs.  Costello  had  dumped  on  the  floor  when 
her  washing  was  done,  to  give  it  a  "  broom  scrub- 
bing"; the  boards  were  still  wet  and  reeking  of  suds. 

Annie  (who  was  seven)  had  not  gone  to  school 
that  day  because  she  had  a  sore  throat;  for  the  same 
reason,  her  mother  was  afraid  to  let  her  go  out  to 
play;  so  she  was  confined  to  the  kitchen — the  only 
room  that  had  any  heat  in  it — and  she  had  Bessie 
Cohen  in  to  play  with  her. 


182  THE  WORK-A-DAY  GIRL 

"  Wash  them  dishes,  will  you,  Mamie?  "  her  mother 
said,  nodding  toward  the  sink  where  the  lunch  dishes 
were  piled. 

Mamie  took  off  her  hat  and  coat  and  got  out  the 
dish-pan. 

"  I  seen  Rose  Smulska  when  I  was  comin'  home," 
she  said.  "  Her  pa's  been  sick  all  winter,  and  she 
ain't  got  no  work." 

"  Her  pa  ain't  never  goin'  to  git  no  better,"  Mrs. 
Costello  declared,  not  unsympathetically  yet  with  that 
matter-of-fact  acceptance  of  such  situations  which 
comes  from  much  experience  of  them.  "  He's  got 
the  con;  I  could  see  it  comin'  when  they  lived  here. 
I'm  thankful  your  pa  ain't  no  tailor — not  that  it's  a 
real  man's  business,  anyhow!  Teamin's  hard,  but 
it's  healthier.  I  wonder  what  them  Smulskis'll  do 
— nine  of  'em !  Lord !  " 

"  Rose  says  if  she  was  me  she'd  try'n'  stay  in  school 
till  I'm  sixteen,"  Mamie  said — more  intent  on  her 
own  prospects  than  on  the  Smulskis'. 

"Why?" 

"  She  thinks  you  git  on  better  if  you  got  more  edu- 
cation. It's  hard  to  git  took  on  in  a  good  job  when 
you're  on'y  fourteen,  she  says." 

"  Well,  if  you  was  learnin'  anything  in  school  that 
might  help  you — but  land!  seems  to  me  you'd  be 
learnin'  faster  if  you  had  almost  any  kind  of  a  job — 
an'  be  drawin'  pay  besides!  I'll  be  awful  glad  when 


MAMIE'S  DEFICIT  183 

you  can  earn  enough  so's  we  can  pay  the  rent  without 
havin'  no  lodger." 

Yes;  Mamie  would  be  glad  of  that,  too.  Even  if 
she  could  only  get  three  dollars  or  three  and  a  half  a 
week,  it  would  be  enough  to  pay  her  carfare,  buy  her 
shoes  and  clothes,  and  help  the  family  dispense  with 
a  stranger  in  the  house. 

Mamie's  pa,  when  the  matter  was  broached  to  him, 
couldn't  see  what  Mamie  might  hope  to  get  in  two 
more  years  of  schooling  that  would  recompense  her 
for  staying  on  and  him  for  keeping  her  there. 

"If  they  learned  you  anything  you  could  earn  a 
livin'  with,  I  wouldn't  care,"  he  said.  "  But,  like  it 
is,  I  don't  see  it.  I'll  be  glad  when  you  can  earn  your 
keep.  I'm  forty,  an'  it  won't  be  no  matter  of  a 
hundred  years  before  bosses  git  to  thinkin'  I'm  too 
old  to  drive  a  team,  or  my  rheumatiz'll  be  that  bad 
I  can't  git  the  best  of  it.  I  ain't  never  laid  up  a 
cent  of  all  I've  earned — ain't  got  a  '  red '  between 
me  and  the  poorhouse.  Strikes  me  you  might  as 
well  fall  to,  when  the  time  comes." 

So  Mamie  went  to  work  in  May;  she  got  a  job  as 
errand  girl  in  a  cheap  department  store,  at  a  weekly 
wage  of  three-fifty.  The  store  was  fully  a  mile  and 
a  half  from  her  home,  and  as  she  was  on  her  feet  all 
day  the  walk  to  and  from  work  seemed  a  hardship; 
but  she  usually  endured  it,  because  fifty  cents  was  all 
her  mother  gave  her  back,  each  week,  out  of  her  pay 
envelope.  A  dollar  of  the  three  "went  again'  the 


184  THE  WORK-A-DAY  GIRL 

rent,"  a  dollar  "  again'  food,"  and  the  third  dollar  for 
clothes  and  shoes — principally,  it  seemed,  for  shoes; 
Mamie  had  to  have  a  pair  at  least  every  six  weeks, 
and  several  pairs  of  ten-cent  stockings. 

She  carried  her  lunch  with  her — a  couple  of  pieces 
of  bread  and  a  piece  of  pie  or  cake,  an  apple  or  a 
doughnut.  But  it  was  hard  to  save  anything  from 
supper  for  the  next  day's  lunch — the  boys  would 
always  eat  up  everything  in  sight — and  in  the  morn- 
ing there  was  little  time  to  stop  and  buy  a  bke  of 
something.  Moreover,  dry,  cold  lunch  did  not  "  taste 
good  "  to  a  growing  girl  who  was  making  heavy  de- 
mands on  her  energy;  and  most  of  the  other  girls 
bought  lunch  in  the  store  lunch-room,  or  outside. 
Mamie  was  "  crazy  "  to  buy  lunch ;  to  sit  at  a  table 
or  counter  and  have  things  served  to  her  order.  She 
liked  the  food  and  she  liked  the  sensation  of  choosing. 
It  made  her  feel  blissfully  important  to  "  order  " — 
and  get  what  she  ordered !  But  the  cheapest  "  meal  " 
of  currant  buns  and  coffee  or  baked  beans  without 
bread,  or  rolls  and  cream-slice,  was  ten  cents.  And 
out  of  which  of  those  three  dollars  could  Mamie  hope 
to  requisition  sixty  cents?  She  asked  her  ma,  and 
her  ma  agreed  to  give  her  thirty  cents  weekly  out 
of  the  food-allowance;  the  rest  she  would  have  to 
make  up  out  of  her  fifty  cents  for  carfare. 

Alternately,  Mamie  trudged  and  bought  lunch, 
rode  and  ate  "  three  bananas  fer  a  nickel  "  or,  on  very 
hot  days,  tried  to  sustain  life  and  (what  is  equally  dear 


MAMIE'S  DEFICIT  185 

to  the  heart  of  youth)  delight,  on  a  "  five-cent  soda." 
Sometimes  she  "  fell  fer  "  a  nickel  show — at  the  ex- 
pense either  of  food  or  feet  as  she  chose.  Once — on 
Fourth  of  July — she  went  to  an  amusement  park  and 
"  blew  in  "  thirty  cents,  which  crippled  her  finances 
all  the  rest  of  the  week. 

During  the  intense,  humid  heat  of  the  "  dog-days," 
Joe  Costello  suffered  a  sunstroke  and  narrowly  es- 
caped more  serious  injury  by  falling  off  his  wagon. 
He  was  laid  up  for  ten  days;  but  that  was,  as  re- 
garded suffering  and  loss  of  pay,  nothing  compared 
with  his  fear  that  he  might  thereafter  be  considered 
less  "  safe  "  to  trust  with  horses  and  loads  than  he  had 
been  before. 

It  had  long  been  his  custom  to  give  his  wife  nine 
dollars  of  his  weekly  twelve,  keeping  three  for  his 
lunches,  beer,  tobacco,  clothes,  and  Union  dues.  Out 
of  her  nine  dollars  she  paid  rent,  bought  fuel,  and 
paid  gas-bills,  fed  seven,  and  clothed  six.  Mamie's 
wages  helped  to  the  extent  of  nearly  three  dollars  a 
week.  That  didn't  pay  Mamie's  way,  but  it  was 
"something,"  and  it  seemed  to  her  parents  to  be 
urgently  needed. 

At  the  end  of  three  months,  Mamie  was  "  raised 
to  four  "  dollars.  But  she  got  a  dollar  a  week  of  it 
for  carfare,  lunches,  and  spending  money,  and  very 
nearly  a  dollar  more  for  shoes  and  clothes.  She  was 
eking  out  the  family  income  by  not  more  than  ten 
dollars  a  month.  Still,  that  nearly  paid  the  rent. 


186  THE  WORK-A-DAY  GIRL 

Mamie  had  deep  longings  for  pretty  things,  but  in 
the  main  she  stifled  these  longings — although  once  in 
a  great  while  she  "  fell  "  (as  she  phrased  it)  for  a  ten- 
cent  string  of  beads  or  a  red  ruching  or  a  new  hair- 
bow,  or  some  other  thing  that  was  not  necessary  to 
cover  nakedness  of  body;  she  had  more  or  less  con- 
tinual hunger,  like  all  young,  growing  things,  for 
food — not  merely  that  which  fills  the  stomach  but  that 
which  satisfies  the  cravings  of  the  "  sweet  tooth  "  and 
of  the  eye — but  in  the  main  she  stifled  this  hunger, 
too,  although  she  indulged  it  to  the  extent  of  spend- 
ing her  ten  cents  on  two  sweets,  sometimes,  instead 
of  on  rolls  and  milk  which  would  have  been  better  for 
her;  she  had  her  full  share  of  youthful  ardour  for 
excitement,  for  entertainment,  for  romance  in  life, 
but  she  resigned  herself  with  fairly  good  grace  to 
the  idea  that  these  things  were,  in  the  main,  impos- 
sible to  her. 

One  day,  a  girl  in  the  store  who  had  taken  quite 
a  liking  to  Mamie,  asked  Mamie  to  go  to  her  house 
for  supper  on  Sunday  evening.  Mamie  had  never 
been  to  anybody's  house  "  to  eat "  except  to  the 
houses  of  some  of  her  relatives.  She  was  shy  about 
going,  but  her  eagerness  was  greater  than  her  shy- 
ness. 

When  she  came  home,  her  eyes  were  shining. 

"  Oh,  Ma !  "  she  cried,  "  they  live  grand.  They 
got  six  rooms — a  parlour  an'  a  dinin'-room  an'  a 
kitchen  an'  three  bedrooms.  We  et  in  the  dinin'- 


MAMIE'S  DEFICIT  187 

room.  They  had  ham  an'  potato  salad  an*  bread  an' 
butter  an'  choc'late  cake  an'  tea  an'  canned  peaches. 
It  was  swell.  An'  after  supper  we  set  in  the  parlour, 
an'  they  have  a  phonograph.  There  was  another  girl 
there  besides  me,  and  two  real  nice  boys — they  go 
to  her  church.  Say,  Ma !  How  much  d'you  suppose 
six-room  flats  cost  ?  " 

"  More'n  we'll  ever  be  able  to  pay,"  her  mother 
answered.  "  Your  pa  ain't  never  goin'  to  make  no 
more'n  he  does  now,  an'  it's  on'y  a  question  o'  time 
till  he  gits  to  be  an  '  extra,'  on  odd  shifts  an'  no 
tellin'  what  he'll  git  for  a  week's  work.  I  used  to 
have  dreams  of  a  sittin'-room,  an'  all  that  goes  with 
it;  but  I've  give  'em  up,  long  ago." 

"  I  can't  never  ask  Myrtle  to  come  here"  Mamie 
declared. 

"No,  you  can't — an'  I'm  sorry  fer  it!  I'd  like 
fer  you  to  go  with  nice  folks,  an'  be  somebody!  I'd 
be  willin'  to  work  my  fingers  to  the  bone  if  I  knew 
how  I  could  git  you  them  things.  But  what  kin  /  do  ? 
An'  what  kin  your  pa  do?  He's  a  good,  steady, 
hard-workin',  reliable  man.  But  he  don't  earn  no 
more  wages  now'n  what  a  boy  of  eighteen  kin  earn 
at  drivin',  an'  hardly  any  more'n  he  earned  when  we 
was  married.  Yet  he's  took  care  of  seven,  an*  I 
can't  say  as  we've  ever  been  what  you  could  just  call 
hungry,  once!  I'd  hate  fer  him  to  think  we  was 
complainin' — he  might  git  discour'ged.  An'  I'd  hate 
fer  you  to  git  discour'ged,  neither.  I'll  tell  you  what 


188  THE  WORK-A-DAY  GIRL 

I'll  do:  If  yer  pa'll  agree  to  it,  he  kin  take  the  kitchen 
bedroom  with  the  boys,  like  he  used  to  do  sometimes, 
and  me  an'  you  three  girls  kin  have  two  beds  in  the 
other  bedroom,  if  we  don't  try  to  have  nothin'  else  in; 
an'  I'll  try  to  fix  up  the  front  room  for  a  parlour, 
so's  you  kin  have  a  place  to  ask  yer  frien's  to." 

"Will  you?    Oh,  Ma!" 

Mamie  went  to  bed  that  night  happier  than  she 
could  remember  ever  to  have  been  in  all  her  life.  She 
dreamed  wonderful  dreams — her  own  little  Apoca- 
lypse— of  a  stuffed  parlour  suite  and  a  carpet  with 
red  roses  in  it,  and  "  worked  "  sofa  pillows  and  pic- 
tures with  "  drapes  "  on  the  corners  of  their  frames, 
and  a  centre-table  with  a  fancy  lamp  on.  Yes,  even  of 
a  phonograph.  Myrtle's  ma  had  said  she  never  knew 
the  like  of  the  phonograph  for  keeping  the  young 
folks  in  and  giving  them  a  lively  time.  They  sang 
with  it  and  danced  to  its  gay  ragtime  and  laughed  at 
its  minstrel  jokes.  You  could  get  them  "  on  time," 
Mamie  knew;  and  even  in  her  sleep  she  wondered 
how  much  you  have  to  pay  "  down,"  and  how  much 
a  month. 

The  next  night,  after  supper,  she  and  her  ma  and 
Nellie  and  Annie  went  over  on  the  Avenue  and  wan- 
dered blissfully  among  the  furniture  "  emporiums," 
admiring  and  pricing  and  planning.  But  when  they 
came  to  "  figger,"  Mrs.  Costello  was  dismayed. 
Carpet  and  stuffed  suite  and  centre  table  and  lamp 
and  a  couple  o'  pictures  couldn't  be  had  under  forty 


MAMIE'S  DEFICIT  189 

to  fifty  dollars — three  dollars  "  down  "  and  two-fifty 
a  month. 

"  Why,  that  ain't  much,"  the  clerk  assured  her. 
*  Two-fifty  a  month  ain't  even  nine  cents  a  day.  An* 
how  could  youse  spend  nine  cents  a  day  an'  git  you  as 
much  f er  it  as  what  this  here  swell  parlour'll  be  ?  " 

True!  Mamie  thought  that  the  parlour  would  be 
so  sustaining  that  she  could  forego  some  nickels, 
weekly,  from  her  lunch-money.  So  they  "  ordered 
it";  but  could  not  pay  the  three  dollars  "down" 
until  the  next  Saturday,  because  last  Saturday's  pay 
envelopes  (Mamie's  and  her  father's)  were  already 
depleted  by  reason  of  last  Saturday  having  been  the 
first  of  the  month — rent  day. 

However,  one  could  spend  a  quite  endurable  week 
with  such  anticipations.  And  on  the  way  home  they 
stopped  in  a  paper-hanger's  to  ask  the  prices  of  wall 
paper  and  of  a  fresh  coat  of  calcimine.  The  next 
day,  at  lunch  hour,  Mamie  "  priced "  phonographs, 
in  the  store  where  she  worked.  Of  course,  she 
couldn't  hope  to  get  one  yet;  not  until  the  furniture 
was  paid  for — unless,  of  course,  she  should  get  a 
raise. 

When  she  thought  how  pretty  that  parlour  was  go- 
ing to  look,  and  how  she  would  have  Myrtle  and  the 
nice  boys  "  over  to  see  "  her,  if  not  for  supper — yet 
awhile — at  least  to  spend  the  evening  and  have  "  re- 
freshments," she  was  so  happy  she  wanted  to  skip 
and  dance  and  sing.  Myrtle  told  her  that  she  knew 


190  THE  WORK-A-DAY  GIRL 

a  boy  who  had  a  machine  that  you  could  stick  picture 
post-cards  in  and  show  'em  up  grand,  on  a  sheet,  like 
a  magic-lantern.  And  this  boy  had  promised  to  bring 
it  over  "  by  "  Myrtle's  house  some  evening.  When 
he  did,  she  would  ask  Mamie  to  come.  Mamie  had 
never  supposed  there  could  be  so  much  pleasantness 
in  the  world. 

But  the  sword  fell!  On  Saturday  evening  when 
the  papers  were  to  have  been  signed  and  the  three 
dollars  paid  that  would  have  insured  the  delivery  of 
"  the  parlour  "  on  Monday,  Joe  Costello  had  to  tell 
his  family  that  he  was  "  let  off."  He  had  had  sev- 
eral "  spells  "  of  giddiness,  since  his  stroke.  One  day 
that  week,  when  his  head  went  queer,  he  had  not 
pulled  up  in  time  to  keep  his  wagon-pole  from  scrap- 
ing a  fine  limousine;  the  chauffeur,  to  save  himself 
from  censure,  reported  Joe  as  drunk;  the  owner  of 
the  limousine  complained  to  Joe's  boss  and  demanded 
from  him  the  price  of  the  repairs  to  his  car.  So  the 
barn-boss  discharged  Joe.  No,  not  "just  for  that"; 
but  because  he  had  been  a  little  fearful,  anyway,  since 
Joe  had  the  stroke ;  if  Joe  "  was  to  let  one  o'  them 
valu'ble  horses  git  injured,  who'd  have  the  blame?" 

It  was  the  beginning  of  the  end!  Joe  looked  for 
another  job.  He  got  one,  after  a  while;  but  it  wasn't 
"  steady."  When  it  was  finished,  he  looked  for  an- 
other. He  had  reached  that  dreaded  state  of  "  odd 
jobs,"  intermittent  work.  .  .  .  There  was  no  par- 
lour, let  alone  any  phonograph!  The  rentin'-room 


MAMIE'S  DEFICIT 

had  to  go  to  a  lodger.  Mamie  "  got  ashamed,"  after 
a  while,  to  go  to  Myrtle's  house  and  never  ask  Myrtle 
to  hers.  And  the  crowded,  noisy  kitchen  irked  her 
as  it  never  had  before  she  knew  anything  better. 

Her  mother  was  afraid  to  "  leave  her  go  by 
dances,"  because  of  the  inevitable  "  bar " ;  nickel 
shows  were  an  expensive  luxury,  impossible  except 
maybe  once  a  week;  the  weather  was  too  cold  to  per- 
mit of  pleasant  lingering  in  the  parks;  and  it  was  a 
mile  and  a  half  to  the  nearest  small  park  with  a  free 
dance  hall — pretty  far  to  walk  often,  after  walking 
home  from  work,  and  not  to  be  thought  of  if  carfare 
must  be  spent.  Mamie  went  to  it,  sometimes — when 
her  shoes  were  good — and  came  home  unescorted, 
because  she  had  to  promise  her  mother  that  she 
wouldn't  "  pick  up  nobody,  nor  go  no  place  with  'em, 
nor  leave  'em  bring  you  home,  nor  get  you  nothin' 
to  drink."  Several  times  some  nice  boy,  circum- 
stanced much  like  Mamie's  self,  wanted  to  take  her 
home ;  but  she  was  afraid.  A  girl  who  lived  "  up- 
stairs of  "  Mamie,  where  Rose  Smulska  used  to  live, 
had  gone  terribly,  flagrantly  wrong,  so  wrong  that 
she  got  arrested;  and  it  was  said  that  the  dance  halls 
had  done  it.  Mamie's  mother  was  afraid  to  hold 
Mamie  in  too  tight;  but  she  filled  her  with  fear-full 
caution. 

When  Mamie  was  sixteen,  she  was  getting  five  dol- 
lars and  a  half ;  she  was  a  bundle  wrapper,  called  "  an 
inspector."  Nellie  went  to  work,  then;  she  started 


192  THE  WORK-A-DAY  GIRL 

at  three-fifty,  as  Mamie  had  done.  But  Joe  Costello 
was  not  averaging  nine  dollars  a  week,  now;  and  the 
family  lived  in  terror  lest  his  discouragement  lead 
him  to  drink.  His  wife  did  all  she  could  to  keep 
him  in  that  crowded  kitchen  at  night,  and  away  from 
its  alternative,  the  saloon;  she  encouraged  him  to 
bring  his  men  friends  there  to  play  cards  and  smoke 
their  pipes  and  drink  beer.  The  present  lodger  was 
a  man;  a  good-natured,  decent,  kindly  chap  who 
worked  in  a  barn  where  Joe  sometimes  got  a  job  at 
driving.  The  lodger  was  a  hostler.  He  had  few 
places  to  go  and  no  particular  predilection  for  saloons ; 
so  he  and  Joe  used  to  spend  most  of  their  evenings 
at  home,  sometimes  with  friends,  sometimes  without. 
Mrs.  Costello  and  the  three  girls  slept  in  the  tiny 
bedroom  off  the  kitchen,  and  they  often  woke  up  in 
the  morning  with  headaches  which  lasted  all  day. 
But  anything  was  better  than  having  Joe  in  a  saloon 
wasting  his  bit  of  money  and  making  himself  drunk. 
Mamie  and  Nellie  acquiesced  in  this,  and  did  what 
they  could  on  their  mother's  urging,  to  hide  their 
repugnance  for  the  "  smelly "  barn-men  with  their 
rank  pipes  and  loud  talk  and  vocabulary  none-too- 
nice.  But  after  a  long  day  in  a  store  so  "  close  "  and 
with  air  so  vitiated  that  two  hours  of  breathing  it 
leaves  most  shoppers  "  tireder  than  if  I'd  done  a  hard 
day's  work,"  the  reeking  kitchen  and  crowded  wee 
bedroom  still  further  sapped  the  two  girls'  energy  and 
tried  their  spirits.  Their  mother  couldn't  blame 


MAMIE'S  DEFICIT 

them  for  wanting  to  go  out,  evenings.  ...  So 
Mamie  and  Nellie  sought  diversion  where  they  could, 
and  had  no  one  to  scrutinize  it  in  their  interests  and 
tell  them  what  promised  real  happiness  and  what 
threatened  to  destroy.  They  had  to  use  their  own 
undeveloped  discretion  as  to  how  their  mother's  cau- 
tion should  be  applied.  And  if  they  were  not  always 
successful,  is  it  any  matter  for  surprise?  Not  one 
semblance  of  the  old  social  intercourse  between  young 
persons  of  their  class,  remains.  Gone  are  the  may- 
pole and  the  village  green,  the  public  rejoicings  when 
kings  married  or  queens  gave  birth  to  heirs;  gone  the 
pageants  and  most  of  the  great  games  or  rights  for 
the  equal  enjoyment  of  both  sexes  and  of  all  classes; 
gone  are  the  sleigh-rides  and  the  barn-raisings  and 
the  spelling  matches  and  the  husking  and  quilting 
bees — gone,  at  any  rate,  out  of  the  lives  of  these  mil- 
lions, herded  in  city  tenements;  gone  is  all  the  old 
neighbourhood  life,  and  nearly  all  the  old  social  life 
of  schools  and  churches.  What  per  cent,  of  the  little 
Mamies  and  Nellies  live  in  flats  of  more  than  four 
rooms?  What  per  cent,  of  them  have  any  possibili- 
ties of  social  life  in  their  homes,  under  the  guardian- 
ship of  their  parents?  What  per  cent,  of  them  have 
ever  known  the  simple  happiness  of  asking  young 
friends  to  their  home  to  eat  a  meal,  or  of  being  asked 
to  sit  at  the  table  of  a  girl  like  Myrtle? 

Mamie  and  Nellie  went  to  Wonderland,  one  night 
in  the  summer  after  Mamie's  seventeenth  birthday. 


194*  THE  WORK-A-DAY  GIRL 

(Mamie  was  getting  six  a  week  now,  and  Nellie, 
four;  and  though  the  family  income  was  no  better 
than  it  had  been  years  ago,  because  Joe  Costello's 
jobs  grew  fewer  and  farther  between,  Mrs.  Costello 
allowed  each  of  the  girls  to  keep  two  dollars  a  week 
for  carfare,  clothes,  lunches,  and  amusements.)  And 
in  the  dance  hall  at  Wonderland,  Mamie  met  a  fellow. 
She  danced  with  him,  and  he  bought  her  lemonade; 
later,  when  they  left  the  dance  hall,  he  treated  her, 
and  Nellie,  to  ice-cream  cones  and  to  rides  on  the 
scenic  railway.  He  wanted  to  "  see  them  home,"  but 
they  thought  they'd  "better  not."  But  he  learned 
where  Mamie  worked,  and  the  next  day  he  came  by 
her  counter  and  said  Hello  to  her  in  her  perch  aloft; 
and  that  night  he  was  at  the  employes'  entrance  when 
she  came  out.  Mamie  thought  it  wouldn't  be  any 
harm  to  let  him  walk  home  with  her  "  before  supper," 
and  she  was  delighted  to  let  the  girls  she  knew  see 
that  she  had  a  beau.  He  was  "  real  swell-looking," 
and  she  was  loath  to  let  him  know  how  mean  a  street 
she  lived  in ;  also,  she  felt  she  must  make  some  excuse 
for  not  being  able  to  ask  him  "  to  call."  So  she  told 
him  her  folks  thought  she  was  too  young  to  have 
company,  and  excused  herself  at  a  distance  of  several 
blocks  from  her  home.  He  took  her  to  lunch,  next 
day,  in  a  grand  place  with  men  waiters  and  an  orches- 
tra. Mamie  was  entranced.  And  he  asked  her  to 
go  to  a  show  at  a  "  reg'lar  theaytre,"  a  down-town 
one,  and  see  a  show  such  as  Mamie  had  never  seen. 


MAMIE'S  DEFICIT  195 

Mamie  just  had  to  tell  Nellie  these  things;  she  felt 
as  if  she  would  burst  if  she  couldn't  tell  somebody. 
But  they  agreed  that  it  would  be  better  not  to  say  any- 
thing about  Ralph  to  Mrs.  Costello — yet. 

"  Ma^s  always  scairt  we'll  fall  fer  some  fresh  guy," 
Mamie  explained  to  Nellie.  "But  Ralph  ain't  like 
that,  at  all.  He's  as  nice  an'  gen'lemanly  as  he  can 
be.  And  oh,  Nellie !  I  love  him  like  everything !  I 
don't  know  how  I  used  to  live,  before  this.  And  if 
anythin'  was  to  happen  between  him  an'  me,  I  know 
I'd  die." 

It  being  summer,  and  very  hot,  there  was  no  ex- 
pectation at  home  that  Mamie  would  sit  in  the  Stirling 
kitchen,  evenings;  so  her  absence,  in  the  parks  or  at 
the  beaches  or  the  Magic  Cities  or  Wonderlands, 
excited  little  comment.  Sometimes  she  said  where 
she  had  been,  sometimes  she  didn't.  But  she  never 
mentioned  Ralph;  because  she  knew  that  if  she  did, 
her  mother  would  want  to  see  him,  and  the  idea  of 
bringing  Ralph  to  that  stewing  kitchen  was  intoler- 
able— she  might  lose  him!  Ralph  loved  her  dearly, 
she  told  Nellie;  and  she  believed  she  loved  him  more 
than  any  girl  had  ever  loved  any  fellow  in  all  the 
world  before.  There  were  some  things  she  did  not 
confide  to  Nellie. 

In  September  there  were  several  days  of  intense 
heat ;  scorching,  withering  winds  blew  clouds  of  dust ; 
the  store  was  like  a  furnace.  About  three  in  the 
afternoon,  Mamie  fainted  and  fell  forward,  limp  and 


196  THE  WORK-A-DAY  GIRL 

ghastly  white,  across  her  wrapping  paper,  paste  pot, 
and  pneumatic  carriers.  She  was  carried  to  the 
store's  hospital-room,  and  "  brought  to."  The  nurse 
questioned  her  sharply.  Mamie  denied  the  imputa- 
tion. That  night  she  told  Ralph  what  the  nurse  had 
suggested.  .  .  .  She  never  saw  him  again.  She 
had  no  idea  where  to  look  for  him;  she  could  only 
wait,  and  wonder,  and  pray,  in  an  agony  of  fear 
and  shame.  On  Sunday  she  got  on  a  car  and  rode 
miles,  then  hunted  a  doctor  to  whom  she  gave  a  false 
name.  He  confirmed  her  fears. 

Mamie  came  out  of  his  office  and  walked  and 
walked,  in  a  daze.  She  would  lose  her  job!  She 
couldn't  get  another  for — a  long  while.  She  would 
disgrace  her  family.  She  would  never  see  Ralph 
again.  Her  brief  bliss  was  over.  There  was  noth- 
ing left  but  misery  and  shame.  .  .  .  Somebody 
called  her  by  name.  Startled,  she  shook  off  her 
trance. 

"  Say !  you  look  as  if  you'd  lost  your  last  friend." 
He  was  one  of  the  men  in  the  store;  he  came 
around,  several  times  a  day,  pushing  a  box  on  wheels 
and  collecting  packages  for  delivery.  Mamie  knew 
him  to  speak  to,  to  chaff  with  as  she  tossed  bundles 
to  him;  but  that  was  all.  She  made  an  effort  to 
appear  gay.  He  asked  her  to  go  to  a  show.  Grasp- 
ing at  anything  as  an  escape  from  her  thoughts, 
Mamie  went.  After  the  show,  he  invited  her  to  a 
chop  suey  place.  And  after  they  left  the  chop  suey 


MAMIE'S  DEFICIT  197 

place,  he  begged  her  to  go  to  a  "  hotel."  Mamie 
hesitated. 

"  I'll  be  good  to  you,  little  girl,"  he  urged.  And 
Mamie,  her  eyes  tear-filled,  pressed  his  arm  in  voice- 
less assent.  .  .  . 

Mamie  never  went  home  again.  She  never  went 
back  to  the  store.  The  store's  nurse  told  Mrs.  Cos- 
tello  what  she  surmised. 

"  Why  didn't  she  tell  me? "  the  mother  moaned. 
"Oh,  God!  it's  terrible.  If  on'y  we  could  of  had 
some  place  at  home  fer  her,  where  she  could  bring 
her  friends  an'  leave  us  see  what  they  was  like ! " 

Nellie  told  what  little  she  knew  about  "  Ralph  " ; 
but  it  was  very  little,  and  led  to  nothing.  .  .  .  But 
how  tell,  in  a  paragraph,  of  the  months  that  followed? 
Of  the  unending  search,  the  undying  hope,  the  un- 
ceasing prayer?  They  could  not  understand  how 
Mamie  could  so  doubt  their  love  as  to  stay  away. 
They  could  not  realize  that  somewhere,  somehow,  lit- 
tle Mamie  was  in  bondage — in  bondage  to  threats,  to 
force,  or  to  persuasion  that  she  was  an  outcast  and 
in  the  only  kind  of  place  where  she  would  henceforth 
be  tolerated. 

As  those  months  of  anguish  in  the  Costello  home 
wore  on,  something  happened  in  Mamie's  city:  The 
Senate  of  Illinois,  stirred  by  reports  of  the  prevalence 
of  white  slavery,  and  confronted  with  a  bill  to  make 
a  minimum  wage  for  any  female  worker  in  Illinois 


198  THE  WORK-A-DAY  GIRL 

two  dollars  per  day,  appointed  a  Commission  to  probe 
the  connection,  so  repeatedly  alleged,  between  low 
wages  and  vice.  The  Chairman  of  this  Commission 
is  Barratt  O'Hara,  recently  elected  Lieutenant-Gov- 
ernor  and,  as  such,  presiding  officer  of  the  Senate. 

After  taking  the  testimony  of  a  great  number  of 
fallen  women  and  girls,  most  of  whom  attributed 
their  descent  into  the  evil  life  to  their  inability  to  earn 
in  any  other  wise  enough  to  live  on,  the  Commission 
determined  to  call  before  it  a  number  of  employers, 
to  see  what  they  had  to  say  as  to  the  wages  they  paid 
and  their  ability  or  inability  to  pay  more.  The  first 
employers  subpoenaed  were  the  heads  of  two  large 
mail-order  concerns,  one  big  clothing  house  (men's 
and  boys'  clothing)  and  nine  department  stores. 

On  Friday  morning,  March  7,  at  ten  o'clock,  the 
Commission  met  for  the  public  hearing  of  witnesses. 
The  sessions  were  held  in  the  red  banquet-room  of 
the  La  Salle  Hotel — heavily  gilt  and  crimson,  flag- 
decorated  and  "  gilt-chaired."  On  that  platform 
where,  usually,  the  speakers'  table  is,  sat  the  Commis- 
sion, Lieutenant-Governor  O'Hara  in  the  chair.  At 
four  tables  in  front  of  the  Commission  sat  reporters, 
"  covering  "  this  dramatic  and  pregnant  story  for  the 
press  of  the  city  and  of  the  nation.  A  squadron  of 
newspaper  photographers  hovered  on  the  fringes  of 
the  scene,  busy  with  their  flashlight  apparatus.  The 
gold  chairs  were  filled  with  eager  auditors — a  class  of 
auditors  (or  classes,  rather!)  clearly  indicating  what 


MAMIE'S  DEFICIT  199 

kinds  of  persons  feel  intense  concern  in  white  slavery 
and  low  wages.  Here  sat  a  deaconess  from  the  Red 
Light  district,  there  a  group  from  some  prominent 
woman's  club;  here  a  representative  of  a  chain  of 
homes  for  underpaid  working  girls,  there  a  well-known 
magazine  editor  from  New  York;  here  a  "welfare 
worker "  in  the  employ  of  a  big  corporation,  and 
there  a  wealthy  woman  specially  devoted  to  the  work 
of  the  Immigrants'  Protective  League.  In  the  in- 
tensity and  almost  complete  unity  of  interest,  every- 
body felt  akin  with  everybody  else;  everybody  ex- 
changed views  with  everybody  else.  It  was  a  re- 
markable audience,  considering  the  occasion.  Almost 
every  one  in  it  was  more  or  less  deeply  informed  on 
economic  questions  and  more  or  less  unified  with 
regard  to  many  of  them. 

The  first  witness  called  was  a  public-spirited  gen- 
tleman who  is  a  generous  contributor  to  a  major  pro- 
portion of  the  worthiest  charities  in  his  city,  and  to 
a  great  many  outside  of  it.  He  was  a  member  of  the 
Chicago  Vice  Commission  which  returned  its  report 
two  years  ago.  This  report  said: 

"  Let  us  do  something  to  give  her  (the  girl  who 
gets  six  dollars  a  week,  or  less)  at  least  a  living  wage. 
If  she  is  not  sufficiently  skilled  to  earn  it,  let  us  mix 
some  religious  justice  with  our  business  and  do  some- 
thing to  increase  her  efficiency  which  through  no 
fault  of  her  own  she  has  never  been  able  to  develop." 

Nevertheless,  he  testified  that  his  payroll  for  that 


200  THE  WORK-A-DAY  GIRL 

week  included  the  names  of  4,732  women  drawing 
an  average  weekly  salary  of  $9.12.  Some  salaries  of 
from  $2i  to  $60  brought  up  the  "  average."  1,465 
girls  in  his  employ  are  paid  less  than  $8.00  a  week, 
which  sum  he  admitted  was  probably  the  least  on 
which  a  girl  not  living  at  home  should  be  asked  to 
subsist.  But  he  contended  that  it  was  the  rule  of  his 
house  not  to  employ  for  less  than  $8.00  a  week  any 
girl  who  does  not  live  at  home.  Asked  how  he  knew 
those  1,465  girls  lived  at  home,  he  said  he  had  only 
their  own  word  for  it;  that  his  firm  made  no  effort 
to  verify  the  statements  of  girls  seeking  work.  He 
declared  his  belief  that  there  is  practically  no  connec- 
tion between  low  wages  and  immorality;  that  the  home 
conditions  of  girls  are  the  determining  factor  in  their 
ability  to  resist  temptation.  No  one  asked  him  if  he 
thought  there  was  a  possible  connection  between  low 
wages  and  home  conditions.  He  testified  that  the 
profits  of  his  company  in  1911  were  "  approximately  " 
$7,000,000.  The  company  is  capitalized  at  $50,- 
000,000.  Senator  Juul  figured  rapidly,  as  the  exami- 
nation proceeded,  and  announced  that  something  like 
a  quarter  of  a  million  dollars,  or  one-twenty-eighth 
of  the  annual  profits  would  bring  all  those  1,465  girls 
up  to  the  "  bread  line  "  where  they  would  not  have  to 
depend  on  the  assistance  of  their  families  or  of  any 
charity.  Witness  admitted  that  this  could  be  done 
without  materially  affecting  the  dividends;  but  he  did 
not  admit  that  he  thought  it  necessary,  nor  that  he  be- 


MAMIE'S  DEFICIT  201 

lieved  it  would  keep  any  girl  from  vice.  "  A  girl  who 
gets  $10  a  week  is  just  as  likely  to  use  that  as  a  subter- 
fuge," he  declared,  "  as  a  girl  getting  any  other  wage." 
The  second  witness  testified  that  his  store  employs 
1,866  women  and  girls  at  an  average  wage  of  $9.86. 
Sixty  girls  get  $5  and  under.  He  was  not  aware  that 
any  girls  in  his  employ  were  of  other  than  the  highest 
moral  character.  He  was  not  aware  that  floor-walkers 
or  others  attempted  to  persuade  girls  into  occasional  or 
professional  prostitution;  he  was  not  aware  that  any 
girl  seeking  employment  in  his  store  and  complaining 
that  the  wages  were  too  small  to  live  on,  was  told  that 
she  could  have  "  a  gentleman  friend."  He  was  con- 
vinced that  wages  have  nothing  to  do  with  the 
morality  of  women.  He  did  not  cause  the  girls'  liv- 
ing conditions  to  be  investigated.  When  a  girl  said 
she  was  living  at  home,  he  believed  her.  Asked  to 
submit  an  estimate  of  what  an  entirely  self-dependent 
girl  might  live  on,  he  gave  the  following: 

Clothes,  including  shoes $1-00 

Laundry 25 

Room  and  board 4-oo 

Carfare 60 

Lunch 7O 

Church 10 

Sickness,  dentist,  oculist  and  emergencies    .        .        .        .1.25 

$7-90 

He  did  not  know  where  a  girl  could  get  room  and 
board  for  $4.00,  but  he  had  "  heard  that  there  are 
places."  He  did  not  know  how  $52  a  year  can  be 


THE  WORK-A-DAY  GIRL 

made  to  keep  a  girl  neatly  dressed  in  black  and  white 
— when  $15  of  it  at  least  would  have  to  go  for  shoes 
and  stockings.  He  did  not  consider  that  amusements 
or  a  two-weeks'  vacation  trip  might  be  any  part  of 
"  living."  He  did  not  believe  that  girls  were  worth 
$6  a  week  as  beginners;  he  refused  to  tell  his  firm's 
earnings,  but  admitted  that  the  $26,000  a  year  neces- 
sary to  lift  all  his  girl  employes  to  the  $8  "  bread 
line  "  would  not  cripple  his  business. 

The  third  witness  represented  a  store  which  employs 
4,222  girls  and  women  at  eight  hours  a  day,  and  440 
others  at  short  hours.  The  lowest  wage  of  the  "  regu- 
lars "  is  $5,  the  lowest  wage  of  the  waitresses  and 
other  "  short-hour "  help,  $4.  The  full  average  is 
$10.76,  and  the  average  of  the  1,895  wno  se^  mer~ 
chandise  (exclusive  of  department  heads)  is  $12.33. 
("  Department  stores  out  here,"  whispered  a  New 
York  woman  with  great  knowledge  of  the  wages  and 
conditions  in  New  York  stores,  "  must  be  the  nearest 
thing  to  Heaven! ") 

This  witness  admitted  that  he  had  no  idea  on  what 
wages  a  girl  who  was  not  partially  supported  by  her 
family,  her  friends,  charity,  or  vice,  could  live;  but 
he  had  "  heard  it  asserted  by  good  authorities  that 
$8  was  about  right."  He  has  1,035  gi^  employes 
who  get  less  than  $8,  including  163  women  of  over 
18  years  who  receive  only  $6.  He  refused  to  give 
any  figures  showing  his  firm's  earnings — even  when 
reminded  that  he  was  liable  to  be  cited  for  contempt 


MAMIE'S  DEFICIT  203 

of  court.  He  was  sure  that  wages  have  nothing  to 
do  with  morals.  And  he  thought  that  it  was  "  the 
business  of  parents  "  to  board  young  workers  and  to 
shield  them  from  temptation. 

Next  witness  testified  that  his  firm  employed  1,200 
girls  "  at  an  average  of  $8.56,"  but  about  500  received 
less  than  that  average.  He  said  "  morality  is  a  state 
of  mind.  Our  girls  are  model  girls.  ...  A  good, 
honest  girl  will  not  resort  to  anything  immoral  to  eke 
out  her  salary.  .  .  .  Girls  do  not  become  immoral  be- 
couse  of  low  wages.  They  turn  in  such  a  direction 
because  they  have  immoral  minds." 

The  vice-president  of  a  firm  employing  1,973  women 
and  girls,  1,140  of  whom  average  $9.25  a  week,  con- 
tended that  employers  were  relieving,  not  oppressing, 
families  when  they  paid  $5  a  week  to  inexperienced 
girls  living  at  home.  He  shared  the  belief  of  most  of 
the  witnesses  (if  not  all!)  that  a  girl  is  entitled  to 
support  by  her  relatives  and  that  whatever  she  gets  in 
wages  is  a  sort  of  "  velvet."  The  old  idea  dies  hard! 
He  does  not  believe  that  girls  tell  "  the  entire  truth  " 
when  they  blame  low  wages  for  their  downfall. 

The  testimony,  as  a  whole,  was  marked  by  these 
conclusions : 

None  of  the  employers  had  given  any  thought  to 
the  purchasing  power  of  the  wages  they  paid,  further 
than  to  make  a  rule  (which  hard-pressed  girls  might 
break,  unchallenged,  if  they  wished)  that  the  low-paid 
workers  must  be  girls  living  at  home.  None  of  the 


204  THE  WORK-A-DAY  GIRL 

employers  had  thought  of  a  girl's  continued  depend- 
ence, in  part,  on  her  family  as  tending  to  make  the 
overburdened  poor  households  subsidizers  of  busi- 
nesses that  pay  30  per  cent,  to  their  stockholders. 
None  of  them  believed  in  a  probable  connection  be- 
tween low  wages  and  immorality.  None  of  them 
denied  that  they  could  pay  a  good  deal  higher  wages 
and  still  do  business  at  a  more  than  fair  profit. 
None  of  them  ventured  to  say  that  a  self-dependent 
girl  could  sustain  life  in  any  sort  of  tolerable  com- 
fort, for  less  than  $8  a  week. 

The  most  interesting  points  in  the  general  discus- 
sion provoked  by  the  hearings  are: 

First,  the  notion  that  some  unthinking  persons  got, 
that  the  moral  characters  of  all  low-paid  girls  are 
impugned.  Nothing  could  be  further  from  the  truth. 
A  very  great  majority  of  those  girls  are  straight, 
sturdy  souls  with  a  resisting  power  far  beyond  what 
you  or  I  dare  to  say  we  would  have  in  their  places. 
But  ought  they  be  obliged  to  wage  so  fierce  a  battle 
between  pinching  want  on  the  one  hand  and  the  art- 
fully-covered lure  of  the  white-slaver?  Has  any  em- 
ployer a  right  to  take  eight,  nine,  ten  hours  a  day  out 
of  youth  in  service  more  or  less  uncongenial  and  per- 
formed under  conditions  more  or  less  undermining  to 
health,  and  pay  for  it  a  wage  so  small  that  the  worker 
is  continually  semi-starved  either  for  food  or  for 
recreation?  Can  society  do  much  toward  regulating 
and  diminishing  the  social  evil,  whilst  it  allows  thou- 


MAMIE'S  DEFICIT  205 

sands  of  little  girls  in  the  first  flush  of  physical  awak- 
ening and  of  mental  excitability,  to  live  on  or  under 
the  dry-bread  line? 

Another  curious  misconception  that  many  persons 
got,  was  that  when  a  girl  may  be  said  to  have  suc- 
cumbed to  the  evil  life  because  she  could  not  get 
along  on  the  wages  paid  her,  she  rose  one  morning 
and  said:  "  I'm  tired  of  the  struggle.  I'll  go  to  the 
devil."  They  argued  that  a  girl  would  not  do  that 
"  once  in  a  thousand  times."  Of  course  she  wouldn't. 
That  isn't  the  way  they  go !  That  isn't  the  kind  of 
relation  there  is  between  low  wages  and  going  astray. 
That's  why  I  wanted  to  tell  about  Mamie.  Mamie 
was  better  protected  than  most  girls  on  low  wages; 
poverty  had  not  wreaked  its  worst  on  her  home. 
Consumption  had  not  sapped  the  life  of  their  bread- 
winner, industrialism  had  not  crippled  nor  poisoned 
him.  Her  mother  was  less  disheartened  than  many 
poor  mothers  are.  Their  tenement  was  less  crowded, 
and  left  some  show  for  the  maintenance  of  modesty, 
of  decency!  There  was  no  drunkenness.  There 
was  no  quarrelling  of  the  hungry- wolves  sort.  But 
neither  was  there  "  a  fair  show  "  for  Mamie.  Some 
girls  survive  valiantly  in  conditions  no  better,  or  even 
worse.  But  ought  anybody  to  be  surprised  when  they 
don't? 

Thirdly,  but  by  no  means  lastly,  it  was  argued  that 
few  girls  are  worth  $8  a  week  when  they  are  begin- 
ners. Senator  Juul's  reply  to  this  was  that  such 


206  THE  WORK-A-DAY  GIRL 

girls  are  apprentices;  that  $8  a  week  no  more  than 
houses,  feeds,  and  decently  clothes  them;  and  that 
apprentices  have  always  been  reckoned  "  worth  their 
keep."  What  might  further  have  been  argued  is  that 
expenditure  for  the  development  of  an  A-i  working 
force  is  one  of  the  most  legitimate  items  of  business 
upkeep;  it  may  as  fairly  be  charged  to  the  necessary 
running  expenses  as  advertising — more  fairly  than 
that  lavish  "  entertaining  "  which  most  firms  charge 
to  the  "  cost  of  doing  business."  One  of  the  men  who 
testified  spends  thousands  of  dollars  annually  giving 
free  automobile  rides  to  country  customers;  this  is 
reckoned  legitimate  expenditure,  for  which  his  firm 
gets  a  good  return.  Why  might  not  wages  that 
would  enable  a  girl's  family  to  have  five  rooms  instead 
of  four,  to  have  a  room  for  social  life  instead  of  leav- 
ing that  social  life  to  the  streets  and  nickelodeons  and 
dance  halls,  be  also  a  good  economic,  not  merely  sen- 
timental, investment?  The  Chicago  Telephone  Com- 
pany finds  it  remunerative,  not  philanthropic,  to  give 
its  girls,  free,  a  good,  hot  luncheon.  Why  might  it 
not  "  pay  "  to  give  every  girl  who  works  eight,  nine, 
ten  hours  a  day,  in  more  or  less  nerve-racking  condi- 
tions, wages  enough  to  assure  her  a  room  to  herself 
at  night,  a  room  with  a  window,  a  room  where  she 
might  have  recuperative  sleep  and  nerve-relaxation? 
Considering  her  as  probably  one  of  the  mothers  of 
to-morrow,  might  it  not  actually  save  money  now 
outlaid  on  repair  and  reform  institutions?  The  em- 


MAMIE'S  DEFICIT  207 

ployers  said  they  could  pay  for  this  without  materially 
affecting  profits,  but  they  all  expressed  solicitude  lest 
there  be  some  "  smaller  concerns  "  that  could  not  do 
it.  As  this  is  probably  the  first  time  they  have  ever 
been  solicitous  about  those  "  small  concerns,"  nobody 
need  feel  too  terribly  harrowed  by  this  sympathy. 

It  is  not  likely  that  any  State  will  pass  a  "  $12  mini- 
mum "  law.  It  is  not  at  all  desirable  that  any  should. 
That  would  be  going  too  fast.  The  immediate  results 
would  be  very  disastrous.  Thousands  of  the  neediest 
little  girls  and  young  women  would  be  "  dispos- 
sessed," with  no  hope  or  chance  of  getting  back  or 
going  elsewhere.  A  Minimum  Wage  Board,  of  Ar- 
bitration, is  better.  .  .  .  Failing  that,  the  minimum 
wage  should  not  be  over  $8,  until  things  have  been 
worked  out  on  that  basis.  It  would  better  be  raised 
a  second  time,  than  put  too  high  at  first. 

One  result  of  a  minimum  wage  will  be  to  discon- 
tinue the  employment  of  fourteen-year-old  girls;  to 
force  girls  to  undergo  a  longer,  a  more  thorough,  and 
a  more  specific  preparation  to  get  $8  jobs.  This  will 
seem  hard  in  many  families,  where  the  pressure  of 
poverty  is  very  great  by  reason  of  the  death  or  deser- 
tion or  incapacitation  of  the  adult  wage-earner.  But 
it  were  better  that  some  of  our  present  philanthropy 
be  applied  to  the  "  tiding  over  "  of  such  cases  (pend- 
ing the  general  adoption  of  mothers'  pensions  by  the 
States),  thereby  saving  money  from  what  is  now  spent 
on  the  reclamation  of  industrial  wreckage. 


208  THE  WORK-A-DAY  GIRL 

There  must  be  longer  childhood,  to  store  up  energy 
for  the  frightful  drains  of  modern  industrial  and 
commercial  life.  There  must  be  better-directed  edu- 
cation. There  must  be  far  more  abundant  opportu- 
nities for  healthful,  wholesome  play — during  child- 
hood and  in  youth.  There  must  be  a  tremendous 
reform  in  housing  conditions — in  the  interests  not 
alone  of  physical  but  of  social  well-being.  There 
must  be  a  check — not  in  sumptuary  laws  such  as  are 
actually. pending  now  in  some  States,  but  in  the  edu- 
cation of  taste  from  the  top  stratum  downwards! — 
on  the  riot  of  extravagance  and  unfitness  to  which 
dress  has  gone  in  this  country  as  in  no  other.  But 
there  must  be  a  check  on  the  ever-widening  inequality 
between  the  richest  and  the  poorest,  or  our  social 
structure  will  not  endure;  we  shall  have  revolution, 
not  evolution;  cataclysm,  not  growth.  Revolution 
destroys  indiscriminately;  years  are  required  to  re- 
cover from  its  devastation.  It  is  only  about  a  hun- 
dred and  eighteen  years  since  Thomas  Paine  brought 
to  George  Washington  the  great  key  of  the  Bastille, 
symbolizing  the  attitude  of  the  new  French  Republic 
toward  these  colonies  which  had  given  France  the 
encouragement  of  an  example.  It  is  a  great  deal 
less  than  half  a  hundred-and-eighteen  years  since 
these  United  States  ceased  to  exemplify  such  sim- 
plicity and  sincerity  of  true  democracy  as  made  even 
the  dreamers  of  Utopia,  in  the  Old  World,  marvel 
and  admire.  Those  men  are  not  yet  old  men  who  in 


MAMIE'S  DEFICIT  209 

their  boyhood  knew  a  social  structure  that  now  seems 
as  remote  as  the  Golden  Age.  In  some  of  the  Old 
World  countries  the  inequality  is  of  such  long  growth 
that  one  can  hardly  imagine  its  breaking-up  without 
violence.  With  us  it  is  not  yet  so  adamantine.  Pray 
God  it  never  may  be! 


IX 
GIRLS'  SCHOOLING 

F  OOK  at  her !     Eighteen  years  old — never  had 
A    a  year's  schooling  in  her  life — and  earning 
$225  a  week;  not  merely  getting  it,  but  earn- 
ing it !  " 

"Never  a  year's  schooling?  Why,  she's  been 
schooled  for  sixteen  years  to  do  this  thing:  ever  since 
she  could  toddle  across  a  stage  and  lisp  a  sentence  or 
two.  After  sixteen  years  of  concentrated  application 
to  any  trade  or  profession,  one  usually  begins  to 
realize  fair  rewards  from  it.  Of  course,  on  the  stage 
$225  a  week  doesn't  mean  $1.1,700  a  year.  Acting's 
a  seasonal  occupation — very!  But  this  girl  is  em- 
ployed for  as  long  a  season  each  year  as  almost  any 
one  in  the  business:  she  averages  thirty-two  weeks. 
That  puts  her  annual  income  at  about  $7,000;  which  is 
not  extraordinary  after  sixteen  years  of  well-directed 
study.  One  reason  more  professions  do  not  net  their 
practitioners  so  well  after  a  like  term  of  service,  and 
that  this  girl's  earnings  are  very  exceptional  even  in 
her  profession,  is  because  most  persons  begin  their 
special  training  so  late  in  life  that  by  the  time  they 
have  given  sixteen  years  to  it  they  have  reached,  if 
indeed  they  have  not  passed,  their  meridian  of  life 

210 


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GIRLS'  SCHOOLING 

and  of  energy.  This  girl  will  enter  her  '  glorious 
twenties  '  splendidly  equipped  not  only  in  her  calling, 
but  in  general  culture  and  understanding;  most  girls 
enter  them  in  a  state  of  unpreparedness  which  is  ap- 
palling. The  average  girl  wage-earner  of  eighteen 
gets  under  six  dollars  a  week.  At  least  eight  years  of 
her  '  schooling '  have  been  years  of  sheer  waste;  from 
four  to  six  years  she  has  wasted  her  youthful  adapta- 
bility, her  energy,  her  precious  time,  at  the  expense 
of  the  payers  of  school  taxes;  and  from  two  to  four 
years  she  has  cost  the  public  quite  heavily  in  increased 
cost  of  living,  because  her  complete  lack  of  skill  or 
efficiency  makes  her  a  waster  of  good  material  and  a 
consumer  of  unearned  wages  while  the  industrial 
world  endures  her  apprenticeship." 

As  statements  of  a  sane  and  thoroughly-informed 
student  of  social,  educational,  and  industrial  condi- 
tions, these  could  not  easily  be  denied;  they  challenged 
investigation — and  they  sustained  it! 

The  average  girl  who  goes  to  work  for  a  living 
when  she  is  sixteen  has  spent  probably  about  1,800 
days  in  school,  or  not  far  short  of  9,000  hours,  ex- 
clusive of  home  study  hours  which  are  now  quite  im- 
perative. And  when  she  has  finished  this  she  is  the 
merest  apprentice  at  earning  or  at  spending,  or  at 
applying  her  energies  in  any  direction.  If  she  be- 
comes a  mill  or  factory  operative,  she  may  hope  to 
reach  the  high  level  of  $8.48  a  week  after  about  ten 
years  of  work,  or  when  she  is  twenty-six.  After  ten 


THE  WORK-A-DAY  GIRL 

years  in  a  department  store  she  may  hope  to  be  earn- 
ing $9.81  a  week,  with  a  possibility  of  rising  to  $13.33 
a  week  after  sixteen  years  of  service,  or  when  she  is 
thirty-two  years  old;  subsequent  to  that,  the  average 
saleswoman  will  earn  less  and  less.  The  average 
factory  woman's  earning  ability  also  begins  to  de- 
crease after  about  twenty  years  of  service. 

It  takes  ten  years  of  schooling  and  ten  years  of 
application  to  reach  a  living  wage  (this  is  for  the 
average,  of  course;  some  do  better,  some  never  do  so 
well)  and  if  a  woman  has  not  married  by  that  time 
she  may  hope  to  hold  her  own  for  ten  years;  then 
"  old  age  "  begins  to  set  in  for  her,  at  thirty-six,  and 
her  earning  abilities  wane  steadily — certainly  if  she 
is  in  mill  or  factory,  and  almost  certainly  if  she  is  in 
office  or  store.  If  she  marries  about  the  time  she 
is  reaching  her  full  earning  powers,  and  comes  back 
(as  so  many  do)  into  the  working  world  after  four  or 
eight  or  twelve  years  of  domestic  life,  she  does  not 
resume  where  she  left  off,  nor  even  where  she  might 
have  been  by  this  time  if  she  had  never  quit;  she 
enters  as  worse  than  an  apprentice,  usually,  and  her 
dire  necessity  is  preyed  upon  until  she  is  made  to  work 
for  pay  which  any  sixteen-year-old  girl  may  well 
scorn.  Yes;  and  so  far  from  hope  of  increase,  which 
spurs  and  sustains  the  young  apprentice,  the  burdened 
woman  of  thirty-odd,  who  returns  to  wage-earning 
to  support  helpless  dependents,  has  to  face  the  cer- 
tainty of  steady  decrease  in  her  money-making  pow- 


GIRLS'  SCHOOLING 

ers.  A  surprisingly  large  proportion  of  those  who 
marry  are  widowed  or  deserted  or  become  the  sup- 
port of  maimed,  insane,  drunken,  rheumatic,  or  syphi- 
litic husbands,  as  well  as  of  their  children.  No  girl 
leaves  the  industrial  ranks  to  marry  without  facing 
the  probability  of  becoming  again  a  wage-earner 
and  probably  a  handicapped  one.  Consider!  Fifty 
dollars  a  month  is  unskilled  workers'  pay;  it  will 
buy  necessities  for  a  family,  but  it  will  not  pro- 
vide comforts.  Yet  no  girl  who  marries  and  brings 
children  into  the  world  has  any  kind  of  certainty  of 
being  able  to  keep  herself  and  them  in  necessities  un- 
less her  husband  has  insurance  or  property  to  the 
extent  of  about  twelve  thousand  dollars.  This  means 
that  practically  every  girl  who  leaves  the  wage-earn- 
ing ranks  to  marry  takes  a  wild  chance  on  the  health 
and  fidelity  of  her  husband,  on  his  ability  to  keep 
employed,  on  his  immunity  from  accident,  and  on  a 
lot  of  other  things  over  which  she  has  little  or  no 
control. 

Now,  what  are  we  doing  for  this  girl  who  goes  to 
school  until  she  is  fourteen  or  sixteen;  works  for  her 
living  until  she  is  twenty  or  twenty-five;  marries;  be- 
comes the  mother  of  to-morrow's  young  workers; 
and  in  many  cases  is  herself  again  forced  into  the 
wage-earning  ranks? 

Education  comprehends  many  things,  but  perhaps 
most  of  them  fall  within  one  or  the  other  of  four 
categories:  Self -discipline;  intelligent — not  coercive 


THE  WORK-A-DAY  GIRL 

— acquiescence  in  the  laws  made  by  the  majority  for 
the  government  of  all;  efficiency  for  participation  in 
life;  and  appreciation  of  the  beauties  of  life  and  of 
conduct,  with  direct  reference  to  the  growth  of  ideals 
for  oneself  and  for  one's  community  or  generation  or 
species,  as  the  case  may  be. 

That  is  to  say,  an  individual  in  process  of  education 
is  learning  to  understand  and  to  govern  and  direct 
himself  in  both  his  public  and  his  private  relation- 
ships ;  he  is  improving  his  usefulness  to  himself  and  to 
the  community;  and  he  is  growing  in  his  perception  of 
ideals  for  himself  and  for  others  through  him — ex- 
panding in  knowledge  how  to  raise  his  family,  his 
city,  or  all  humankind,  to  a  higher  plane  made  possi- 
ble, in  part  at  least,  by  his  efforts.  "  Schooling  "  is 
not  to  complete,  but  only  to  set  in  motion  these  en- 
deavours ;  the  truest  education  is  the  most  continual — 
it  can  never  stop.  But  are  we  setting  in  vigorous 
motion  those  energies  that  make  for  continued  alert- 
ness, for  eager  self-improvement?  That  is  the  one 
great  gift  we  may  give  to  our  young  people:  zest. 
Such  knowledge  as  we  hand  on  to  them  can  become 
theirs  only  in  so  far  as  they  test  and  approve  it.  Zest 
to  make  the  tests  is  the  supreme  essential. 

What  quality  of  eagerness  are  we  inspiring  in 
them?  To  keep  within  the  special  bounds  of  this 
article,  what  attitude  toward  life  characterizes  the 
vast  majority  of  girls  between  fourteen  and  sixteen 
years  of  age,  who  leave  the  fostering  care  of  educa- 


GIRLS'  SCHOOLING 

tional  institutions,  and  dump  themselves  as  sore 
"  problems "  on  employers,  on  social  and  economic 
students,  and  too  often  on  the  State  as  delinquent  or 
dependent  wards? 

Catechize  any  of  these  girls,  and  be  surprised. 
Catechize  hundreds  of  them,  day  in  and  day  out,  year 
in  and  year  out,  as  some  do  whom  I  have  interviewed 
—and  be  dumfounded  at  the  blind  inadequacy  of 
their  foster-parent,  the  State;  the  incredible  selfishness 
or  stupidity  of  their  actual  parents.  What  a  girl  of 
fourteen  knows  is  not  much;  it  couldn't  be.  But 
what  she  is  eager  to  know  is  the  test  of  her  worth 
to  herself  and  to  her  world. 

If  her  eagerness  is  to  know  how  to  dance  the  tur- 
key trot,  how  to  marcel  her  own  hair,  how  to  buy 
silk  stockings  on  a  five-dollar  weekly  wage — in  short, 
how  to  catch  a  beau — she  is  indeed  only  following 
the  dictates  of  her  nature  in  its  passionate  ado-  v 
lescence.  But  even  a  lower  animal  has  a  further 
function  than  to  reproduce;  the  most  rudimentary  life 
is  woven  of  two  strands;  the  struggle  for  life  and 
the  struggle  for  the  life  of  others.  A  girl  is  less 
intelligent  than  any  other  animal,  from  the  lowest  up, 
if  she  trusts  to  the  presumption  that  mating  and 
motherhood  will  absolve  her  from  further  struggle 
for  life.  She  may  be  that  exceptional  woman  who 
will  never  again,  after  entering  wedlock,  have  to  earn 
a  dollar  for  her  own  support  or  for  the  support  of 
others ;  but  she  will  be  a  less  efficient  mother  than  any 


216  THE  WORK-A-DAY  GIRL 

she-wolf  if  she  cannot  give  her  children  better  in- 
struction than  they  can  get  elsewhere,  in  how  and 
where  to  forage  and  when  and  how  to  fight.  And 
if  she  were  as  effectively  trained  as  a  she- wolf  is,  she 
would  have  eagerness  for  self-sufficiency;  indeed,  she 
would  be  such  an  able  self-provider,  that  a  Mr.  Wolf 
would  have  to  make  himself  specially  personable  if  he 
wanted  to  attract  her.  It  is  reserved  for  the  compla- 
cent human  species  to  provide  the  only  female  in  na- 
ture who  tries  to  get  her  living  by  her  charms  rather 
than  by  her  intelligence.  It  is  nature  that  makes  the 
girl  of  sixteen  eager  to  mate  and  to  mother;  it  is 
not  nature,  but  perverse  education,  which  makes  her 
confine  her  eagerness  to  that. 

Let  us  consider  a  typical  girl  of  sixteen  about  to 
enter  upon  a  more  or  less  self-dependent  existence. 
She  has  had  an  extraordinary  period  of  "  infancy," 
of  complete  economic  and  moral  dependence — almost 
a  quarter  of  a  long  lifetime.  Let  us  see  what  has 
been  done  in  those  sixteen  years  to  prepare  her  for 
self -sufficiency. 

Suppose  we  say  that  Molly  graduated  from  the 
grammar  school  when  she  was  fourteen,  and  has  had 
two  years  in  high  school.  That  means  that  she  went 
along,  taking  a  grade  a  year  for  ten  years,  as  the 
school  board  intended  an  average  child  should  do. 
And  here  she  is,  after  ten  years  of  schooling,  looking 
for  a  job. 

She  will  continue  to  live  at  home,  and,  like  nearly 


GIRLS'  SCHOOLING 

four-fifths  of  the  working  girls  who  live  at  home,  she 
will  hand  over  to  her  mother  each  week  her  unopened 
pay  envelope.  By  and  by  this  will  become  very  irk- 
some, and  the  irksomeness  will  be  fraught  with  dan- 
ger. But  just  now,  Molly  thinks  it  will  feel  delight- 
fully important  to  have  a  pay  envelope  for  handing 
over.  She  is  confident  that  when  she  is  earning 
money  her  mother  will  "  not  be  stingy "  with  her 
when  she  makes  requests  for  things  she  would  not 
dare  to  ask  for  now. 

Molly  has  no  idea  what  she  wants  to  do — except 
that  she  wants  to  earn  money.  Investigations  have 
shown  that  a  majority  of  girls  drift  into  this  or  that 
employment  because  they  have  a  friend  or  friends  in 
it;  their  notion  of  the  number  and  variety  of  possible 
employments  is  usually  limited  by  what  they  know 
of  the  occupations  of  their  acquaintances. 

Molly  knows  a  girl  who  went  to  business  college 
and  is  now  a  stenographer.  She  knows  another  girl 
who  did  not  go  to  business  college,  and  is  now  a  filing 
clerk  in  a  mail-order  house.  They  are  each  getting 
five  dollars  a  week.  It  takes  six  months  to  learn 
stenography  and  costs,  with  tuition,  carfare,  lunch 
money,  and  etceteras,  about  a  hundred  dollars.  But 
the  stenographer  retorts  that  whereas  her  present  pay 
is  no  better  than  the  filing  clerk's,  her  prospects  are 
infinitely  better;  to  which  the  filing  clerk  answers 
that  in  the  huge  concern  where  she  works  department 
managers  are  always  on  the  lookout  for  efficient  help 


218  THE  WORK-A-DAY  GIRL 

and  if  a  girl  shows  promise,  they  will  see  that  she 
gets  a  chance  to  learn  whatever  will  improve  her  use- 
fulness. 

Of  other  girls  that  Molly  knows,  one  is  a  sorter  in 
a  candy  factory.  She  left  school  when  she  was  four- 
teen, after  finishing  the  eighth  grade,  has  been  work- 
ing a  year,  and  she  earns  five  dollars;  another  puts 
shoe  laces  into  the  finished  shoes  in  a  factory  where 
her  father  is  employed — she  has  been  doing  this  for 
one  year,  or  since  she  was  fifteen,  and  she  gets  $5.50 
a  week  on  an  average,  working  by  the  piece;  a  third 
works  in  a  neighbourhood  dry  goods  store  and  gets 
only  four  dollars  a  week;  she  has  no  carfare  to  pay, 
and  can  go  home  to  lunch  and  supper,  but  she  has  to 
be  at  the  store  evenings  until  ten,  except  Wednesdays 
and  Fridays.  Molly  knows  that  she  doesn't  want  a 
job  like  that;  she  is  not  attracted  by  the  shoe  factory, 
either,  because  her  liking  for  the  girl  who  works  there 
is  "  nothin'  extra,"  and  Molly  would  rather  work 
where  she  can  "  see  more  " ;  she  would  like  to  be  a 
saleslady,  so  she  could  "  dress  nice "  and  be  down- 
town. The  opportunity  to  watch  many  people,  and 
see  pretty  clothes,  makes  a  stronger  appeal  to  her  than 
working  in  any  factory  or  office  where  her  observa- 
tions would  be  limited  to  her  fellow-workers. 

So  Molly  makes  application  for  a  position  as  sales- 
girl, and  finds  that  inexperienced  salesgirls  of  sixteen 
years,  living  at  home  with  parents,  are  expected  to 
start  as  low  as  four  dollars  a  week.  The  family 


GIRLS'  SCHOOLING  219 

incline  to  think  that  Molly  ought  to  do  better;  that 
she  might  more  profitably  take  factory  employment 
anywhere  near  home  where  unskilled  help  is  needed. 
But  Molly  does  not  want  to  be  a  factory  girl,  and 
she  has  her  own  way. 

There  isn't  any  class  of  goods  that  Molly  is  less 
ignorant  of  than  she  is  of  others.  So  far  as  her 
employer  is  concerned,  she  is  just  one  of  the  ordinary 
"  chances  " :  she  can  read  and  write  and  add  simple 
figures;  she  can  understand  and  speak  the  prevailing 
language;  she  appears  to  have  a  normal  complement 
of  senses ;  presumably  she  can  be  taught  to  make  out 
a  sales-check  and  to  acquire  a  fair  knowledge  of  her 
stock — also  to  be  reasonably  civil  and  attentive  to 
customers.  She  has  had  ten  years  of  schooling;  but 
in  so  far  as  it  is  available  for  her  employer's  uses,  she 
might  have  learned  all  that  is  of  service  to  him  in 
a  single  year. 

For  her  own  uses,  what  has  she  learned  that  will 
enable  her  to  recognize  Opportunity  when  she  sees  it? 
To  analyze  her  abilities  and  her  limitations,  so  that 
she  may  know  where  to  apply  herself,  and  how,  with 
greatest  probability  of  success? 

Side  by  side  with  Molly  works  a  girl  who  does  not 
live  at  home ;  who  has  no  one  to  decide  for  her,  either 
helpfully  or  arbitrarily,  what  she  shall  do  with  her 
money.  This  girl  has  a  great  many  problems,  nearly 
all  of  which  deeply  concern  her  efficiency;  but  she  has 
little  realization  of  them  as  bearing  on  anything  but 


THE  WORK-A-DAY  GIRL 

her  immediate  comfort.  She  has  to  decide  whether 
she  will  live  close  to  her  work,  in  the  congested  lodg- 
ing-house districts,  or  seek  board  with  some  family 
living  out  where  rents  are  cheap;  whether  strap-hang- 
ing for  forty  minutes  morning  and  evening  is  com- 
pensated for  by  decency  of  surroundings  and  some 
one  to  take  a  friendly  interest  in  her;  whether  it  is 
wise  or  unwise  for  her  to  try  to  make  her  own  shirt- 
waists and  trim  her  own  hats,  evenings  after  her  long 
day  in  the  store  (her  washing  and  mending  she  must 
do,  of  course) ;  whether  she  will  profit  most  by 
"  keeping  her  hand  in  "  on  sewing,  or  by  going  out 
of  doors  and  filling  her  dust-laden  lungs  with  fresh 
air.  She  has  to  make  momentous  decisions,  daily, 
about  companionships  and  pleasures,  and  occasionally 
about  incurring  debt  and  social  obligations  which  she 
cannot  pay. 

Now,  what  relation  to  the  present  and  future  prob- 
lems of  Molly  and  that  other  girl  have  those  9,000 
hours  of  schooling  which  the  tax-paying  community 
provided  ? 

I  do  not  attempt  to  say.  But  I  do  urge  that  some- 
where in  the  curriculum  now  considered  "  educa- 
tional/' there  be  a  little  elimination  or  combination, 
or  what-not,  to  the  end  that  one  hour  of  every  school 
day  from  the  first  to  the  last  may  be  devoted  to 
studies  which  have  a  direct  bearing  on  equipment  for 
self-sufficiency. 

This  is,  perhaps,  not  the  place  to  set  forth  a  detailed 


GIRLS'  SCHOOLING 

plan  for  such  instruction,  but  I  have  made  a  plan 
which  might  serve  at  least  suggestively  for  educators 
or  for  parents  in  their  urging  for  educational  reform. 
Of  this  plan,  which  covers  the  eight  years  of  compul- 
sory school  life,  I  will  try  to  make  a  digest  which 
shall  suggest  the  scope  of  the  whole,  and  something 
of  its  details.  Some  of  the  needful  instruction  is 
comprehended  in  the  best  kindergarten  courses;  bits 
of  it  are  contained  in  grade  school  study,  either  by 
authority  of  the  school  board  or  at  the  personal  dis- 
cretion of  the  teacher.  But  so  far  as  I  have  been 
able  to  discover,  the  teaching,  where  it  exists  at  all, 
is  desultory  and  not  systematic.  Not  being  an  edu- 
cator, I  have  not  presumed  to  make  a  plan  which  could 
be  considered  more  than  a  probable  basis  for  a  prac- 
tical working  plan.  But  such  as  it  is,  here  are  some 
of  its  main  features : 

There  are  four  general  subjects  under  which  may 
come  all  the  most  necessary  instruction.  And  in 
making  the  plan,  I  have  tried  to  keep  in  mind  all  the 
difficulties  which  teachers  encounter  the  moment  they 
touch  on  "  questions  at  issue."  Ethics,  to  be  publicly 
taught,  must  be  fundamental  indeed.  But  there  are 
fundamental  ethics!  And  as  for  physiology,  many 
parents  who  do  not  object  to  having  their  children 
told  how  to  distinguish  their  cerebrum  from  their 
cerebellum  fly  into  frenzied  protest  against  having 
them  taught  the  origin  of  life  or  the  rudiments  of 
social  hygiene.  Very  well!  Chicago  is  getting 


THE  WORK-A-DAY  GIRL 

around  this,  now,  by  having  classes  for  the  physio- 
logical instruction  of  parents,  with  a  view  to  teaching 
them  how  to  tell  their  children  what  children  ought 
to  know.  Where  there's  a  will  there's  a  way.  But 
no  really  grave  objections  need  be  raised  by  a  wise, 
temperate  handling  of  any  of  the  subjects  I  advocate. 
These  are :  comprehension  of  law,  protective  and  pro- 
hibitive; understanding  of  the  body;  ways  of  sustain- 
ing life;  and  ways  of  making  life  gladder  and  more 
useful. 

Does  this  sound  "  highfalutin'  "  for  first  grade? 
It  isn't;  it  is  very  simple. 

A  child  who  is  old  enough  to  go  to  school  soon 
learns  that  she  must  be  punctual;  and  almost  imme- 
diately thereafter  she  learns  that  she  must  not  whis- 
per or  create  any  distraction.  Why  must  everybody 
get  to  school  at  a  certain  time?  Why  may  she  not 
come  when  it  is  convenient?  What  difference  does 
five  or  ten  minutes  make  ?  Why  must  she  keep  quiet 
and  not  disturb  other  little  girls  who  are  trying  to 
learn  their  lessons  ?  A  very  little  instruction  on  these 
elemental  points  will  give  her,  for  her  first  year  in 
school,  an  excellent  beginning  in  comprehending  the 
necessity  of  one  rule  for  many  who  work  together. 

In  physiology  for  that  first  year,  I  would  recom- 
mend only  the  simplest  instruction  in  taking  such  care 
of  a  baby  as  a  majority  of  six-year-old  children  are 
obliged  at  times  to  take.  It  is  enough  for  this  year 
to  teach  a  little  girl  how  to  hold  a  baby  to  make  it 


GIRLS'  SCHOOLING  223 

comfortable  and  protect  its  spine;  to  caution  her 
against  making  it  sit  in  its  buggy  facing  a  too-strong 
light;  to  warn  her  against  letting  injury  befall  the 
"soft  place  in  baby's  head";  and  to  urge  upon  her 
that  she  must  not  let  baby  get  anything  to  eat  or  to 
put  in  its  mouth,  except  what  her  mother  orders.  A 
very  few  minutes  once  a  week  will  serve  for  this;  but 
it  might  well  be  supplemented  by  a  little  talk  about  the 
babies  of  the  households  represented;  leading  the 
children  to  tell  about  their  wee  brothers  and  sisters, 
what  they  have  observed  about  them,  and  so  on. 
"  Our  baby,  when  he  don't  git  what  he  wants,  he  yells 
somethin'  awful,"  can  be  made  the  starting  point  for 
a  tactful  talk  on  wilfulness.  Children  can  be  taught 
from  a  very  early  age  to  observe  traits  of  character 
and  to  draw  conclusions  therefrom. 

With  regard  to  ways  of  sustaining  life,  beginnings 
must  be  made  with  food  and  clothes — for  most  per- 
sons must  consider  clothing  first  as  a  necessity  and 
only  secondarily  as  ornament  or  luxury.  "  Who  has 
been  to  the  store  to  buy  something  for  her  mother? 
What  did  she  buy?  A  loaf  of  bread?  How  much 
does  bread  cost?  What  is  it  made  of?  What  is 
flour  made  of?  Where  does  wheat  grow?  What 
part  of  the  wheat  is  flour  made  from?  How  is  it 
made?  What  is  yeast?  What  does  it  do  to  bread? 
How  much  did  the  coffee  cost?  What  did  it  look 
like?  Where  does  it  grow?  What  is  done  to  it  be- 
fore it  is  good  to  grind  up  for  drink  ?  "  And  so  on, 


224*  THE  WORK-A-DAY  GIRL 

including  such  simples  as  sugar  and  potatoes  and  but- 
ter and  eggs.  Pictures,  and  narrative  skill,  may 
make  all  this  absorbingly  interesting.  Prices  are  in- 
cidental, now,  but  should  be  mentioned  and  kept  in 
mind.  Then  as  for  clothing,  a  few  bits  of  ordinary 
muslin  (or  domestic,  or  cotton  cloth,  or  whatever  may 
be  the  local  name  for  it)  in  different  degrees  of 
coarseness  and  bleaching,  may  serve  for  many  lessons. 
What  is  it  ?  How  much  does  it  cost  a  yard  ?  Where 
do  we  get  it?  What  do  we  use  it  for?  After  it 
grows  in  its  Southern  field  and  bursts  its  boll,  all 
fleecy  white,  and  the  negroes  pick  it  and  get  paid  for 
it  by  the  pound,  and  it  goes  to  the  gin  to  be  cleaned 
and  to  the  compress  to  be  squeezed  into  flat  bales, 
and  onto  boats  or  freight  cars,  what  happens  next? 
And  so  on.  Then,  a  piece  of  wool  cloth  and  its  story 
from  sheep  to  shop. 

And  in  training  in  perception  of  beauty,  that  first 
year,  an  occasional  hour  spent  on  the  child's  first 
beauty-sense :  colour.  "  Is  this  a  pretty  colour  ?  Is 
this?  Do  they  look  pretty  together?  In  a  flower? 
Yes.  In  a  dress?  No.  Why  not?  They  are  too 
bright.  Angelina's  mother  has  a  red-and-yellow 
shawl  which  she  wore  in  Italy?  Ah,  yes!  In  Italy 
there  are  many  wonderful  colours:  the  sky  and  sea 
are  so  very,  very  blue;  the  fields  a  vivid  green;  the 
globes  of  oranges  and  lemons  hang  thick  in  myriad 
trees.  A  red-and-yellow  shawl  there,  on  Angelina's 
mother,  would  be  beautiful.  Here,  where  the  skies 


GIRLS'  SCHOOLING  225 

are  often  gray  and  the  houses  are  gray  and  the  streets 
are  gray,  we  should  be  very  conspicuous  if  we  wore 
red  and  yellow.  And  one  does  not  like  to  be  con- 
spicuous. 

For  law  in  the  second  year,  we  might  deal  with  the 
policeman  as  the  child  sees  him.  What  is  the  police- 
man for?  Who  pays  him?  He  is  there  to  keep 
things  safe  for  everybody.  He  is  there  to  take  care 
of  you.  As  long  as  you  obey  the  laws,  he  is  your 
servant.  When  you  break  a  law  it  is  his  business  to 
take  you  to  the  judge;  because  when  you  break  a  law, 
you  are  hurting  some  one  else,  manyt  others,  whom  it 
is  his  business  to  protect.  Why  does  he  arrest  the 
peddler?  Because  the  peddler  had  no  license.  Why 
must  a  peddler  have  a  license?  And  so  on. 

Health  instruction  of  this  year  should  deal  with 
cleanliness  of  person:  why  we  must  be  clean  to  be 
healthy  and  to  look  nice. 

For  food,  a  year  may  well  be  spent  on  those  aspects 
of  meat  and  its  by-products  which  a  child  of  seven  to 
eight  can  understand.  Who  knows  the  names  of  any 
kinds  of  meats?  What  animals  do  they  come  from? 
Where  do  we  get  them  ?  Where  does  the  butcher  get 
them?  What  becomes  of  the  skins?  Of  the  bristles 
and  hair  and  wool?  Of  the  bones? 

In  clothing,  varieties  of  woollen  and  cotton  goods 
and  of  mixtures,  may  be  learned;  simple  tests  taught 
for  the  detection  of  cotton  threads  in  cloth  that  is 
sold  as  "  all  wool," 


THE  WORK-A-DAY  GIRL 

In  the  third  year,  the  discussion  of  clothing  might 
be  based  on  what  the  girls  are  wearing :  shoes,  stock- 
ings, garters,  underwear,  dresses,  hats,  hair-ribbons. 
What  they  are  made  from,  and  how;  what  it  would 
cost  to  buy  new  ones;  what  kinds  they  would  like  to 
buy.  And  so  microscopic  a  thing  as  a  glass  bead  the 
size  of  a  pin  head,  may  lead  the  talk  'way  to  Murano 
in  the  Adriatic,  where  black  gondolas  glide  across  the 
blue  waters  to  Venice,  laden  with  great  baskets  of 
these  coloured  beads.  A  yard  of  ribbon  may  lead  to 
Asolo,  and  Pippa  singing  in  the  fields  at  dawn. 
There's  a  world  of  romance  and  of  poetry  in  the  dull- 
est clothing,  if  only  one  knows  how  to  find  it. 

And  food  studies  for  that  year  would  do  well  to 
follow  such  lines  as :  "  Who  can  tell  what  she  had 
for  dinner  last  Sunday?  Where  did  each  article 
come  from  ?  What  would  you  like  to  have  for  dinner 
to-day?  Where  would  you  go  to  get  it?" 

The  fourth  year  might  profitably  deal  with  store- 
keeping.  "  How  does  the  storekeeper  know  how 
much  to  charge  for  things  ?  He  adds  to  what  he  pays 
for  them  the  price  of  his  rent  and  all  other  costs  of 
doing  business,  allows  for  the  percentage  that  spoils 
or  deteriorates,  and  then  figures  in  what  he  considers 
a  fair  profit,  a  fair  return  on  his  investment  and 
recompense  for  his  time.  If  we  telephone  our  orders 
and  ask  for  things  several  times  a  day,  who  pays  the 
wages  of  his  telephone  clerks  and  delivery  boys,  his 
purchase  of  many  wagons  and  his  stable-bills?  If 


GIRLS'  SCHOOLING  227 

many  of  his  customers  charge  things  and  some  do  not 
pay,  who  loses?  We  who  do  pay!  When  we  get 
premiums  on  trading  stamps,  do  we  save  anything? 
Would  a  storekeeper  give  us  anything?  Who  sees 
to  it  that  his  weights  and  measures  are  just?  Who 
pays  the  City  Sealer  ?  "  And  so  on. 

Girls  in  the  fifth  grade  average  ten  to  eleven  years. 
They  are  old  enough  to  understand  some  of  the  fun- 
damentals about  property  rights:  why  we  must  re- 
spect those  rights  of  others  and  they  must  respect 
ours;  and  to  be  taught  pride  in  public  properties,  such 
as  parks  and  playgrounds  and  schools  and  monu- 
ments. 

The  girl  of  ten  to  eleven  is  old  enough  to  be  taught 
some  simple  principles  of  digestion  and  its  part  in 
headache  and  other  common  ills.  She  can  be  made 
to  appreciate  the  uses  of  fresh  air  if  her  knowledge 
of  fire  is  employed  in  analogy:  if  she  lights  a  fire  in 
an  air-tight  receptacle,  will  it  burn?  If  she  opens 
drafts  and  doors,  why  does  the  fire  burn  so  much 
brighter?  If  she  neglects  to  clean  out  her  grate,  lets 
clinkers  accumulate,  what  effect  does  that  have? 

About  this  time  she  begins  to  be  insistently  curious 
about  the  beginnings  of  life.  She  should  learn  the 
simple  facts,  preferably  from  her  mother. 

And  about  this  time,  too,  she  begins  to  have  more 
to  say  about  her  clothes.  Suppose  she  is  to  get  a  new 
winter  coat;  what  must  she  consider?  First,  if  she 
has  to  wear  it  in  all  weathers  and  for  all  occasions, 


THE  WORK-A-DAY  GIRL 

or  if  she  can  keep  it  for  best.  Then,  what  colours 
are  becoming  and  suitable  ?  If  she  selects  brown,  will 
it  go  well  with  her  best  and  everyday  dress,  and  with 
her  hat  or  hats?  If  she  cannot  pay  enough  to  get  an 
all-wool  cloth,  well-made,  would  it  be  better  to  get  a 
semi-shoddy  cloth  cut  by  expert  cutters  and  pretty 
well  tailored,  or  to  buy  good  cloth  and  try  to  have  it 
made?  What  are  the  advantages  or  disadvantages 
of  each?  What  cheapens  clothing?  This  paves  the 
way  for  consideration  of  the  pay  of  mill  and  garment 
workers.  Discussion  of  hats  introduces  millinery  as 
a  trade;  of  shoes,  the  girl  operatives  in  shoe  factories. 
On  a  piece  of  underwear  she  considers  purchasing  is 
a  label  of  the  Consumers'  League.  What  is  this 
doing  for  factory  conditions?  If  she  buys  a  lingerie 
shirtwaist,  how  much  will  it  cost  her  to  have  it  laun- 
dered? Why  so  much?  What  do  laundry  .workers 
get?  Does  any  girl  know  a  laundry  worker?  How 
does  the  worker  like  her  job? 

In  the  sixth  year,  let  us  rent  a  place  to  live,  and 
furnish  it.  How  many  in  family  are  we?  Must  we 
be  near  father's  business?  If  there  are  four  or  five 
to  pay  carfare,  is  it  economical  to  live  far  out?  Or 
do  we  prefer  what  we  get  for  twenty  dollars'  rent  and 
ten  dollars'  carfare  to  what  we  could  get  in  walking 
distance  for  thirty  dollars?  What  proportion  of  in- 
come is  it  considered  wise  to  pay  for  rent?  Is  it 
economical  to  buy  furniture  on  the  easy-payment 
plan?  Is  it  foolish  to  try  to  furnish  all  at  once? 


GIRLS'  SCHOOLING 

Isn't  it  "more  tony"  to  get  a  little  at  a  time,  and 
get  it  good?  And  so  on. 

By  the  seventh  year  we  shall  have  come  to  such 
questions  as :  If  we  spend  a  fifth  of  our  income  for 
rent,  how  much  ought  we  to  spend  for  clothes?  for 
insurance?  for  amusements  and  improvements?  for 
savings?  We  can  learn  some  simple  banking  laws 
here;  be  taught  how  to  open  a  savings  account,  how 
to  compute  interest  due  us,  and  what  kinds  of  banks 
are  safest  for  us  to  deposit  in.  The  eighth  year  is 
the  last  of  schooling  for  many.  In  this  year  they 
ought  to  learn  something  of  the  elemental  laws  be- 
tween employer  and  employe,  with  regard  to  contract, 
liability  for  damage,  etc.;  something  of  the  laws  re- 
garding debt,  with  reference  to  "  easy "  payments, 
chattel  and  salary  loans,  rents,  and  the  like;  and 
something  about  their  personal  rights,  what  agencies 
exist  for  the  legal  protection  of  women  and  children ; 
what  they  should  do  if  they  chanced  to  be  arrested. 

By  this  time,  too,  their  studies  of  law  (which  I 
have  not  been  able  in  so  brief  a  space  to  outline  for 
each  year)  should  have  taught  them  their  share  of 
responsibility  for  the  high  or  low  standards  of  the 
community,  and  inculcated  an  interest  for  the  stricter 
enforcement  of  our  good  laws  and  eagerness  for  the 
making  of  needed  new  ones.  They  should  know  who 
makes  the  laws,  and  what  voice  each  of  us  has  in  the 
making  of  laws  for  all. 

In  physiology  they  ought  now,  preferably  through 


230  THE  WORK-A-DAY  GIRL 

their  specially  instructed  mothers,  to  have  instruction 
in  the  fundamentals  tending  to  self -protection,  care 
in  choice  of  a  mate,  and  jealousy  for  the  health  of 
their  probable  children. 

And  more  than  an  hour  a  day  would  be  well  spent 
asking  and  debating  such  questions  as:  How  many 
girls  here  are  going  to  work  next  year?  How  will 
you  look  for  it  ?  What  would  you  like  to  do  ?  What 
do  you  think  you  can  do?  Why  do  you  think  you  can 
do  that?  Have  you  any  idea  what  the  prospects  are? 
What  advantages  and  disadvantages  that  work  has? 
What  the  pay  for  beginners  is  ?  What  is  the  best  you 
can  hope  to  earn  at  it?  If  you  answer  advertisements 
in  the  papers,  how  would  you  select  ads.  for  answer- 
ing, and  how  would  you  answer  them?  Do  you 
know  that  some  ads.  are  misleading?  Would  you  ask 
your  friends  about  work?  Would  you  apply  to  an 
agency?  Would  you  go  about  asking  for  employ- 
ment? What  wage  would  you  be  satisfied  to  begin 
with?  If  you  could  not  live  at  home,  how  much 
would  you  have  to  earn?  How  do  you  think  you 
could  live  most  cheaply,  satisfactorily,  and  safely? 
Would  you  go  in  debt  for  clothes?  Would  you  en- 
tertain men  callers  in  your  room?  Would  you  go 
out  to  dinner  or  theatre  with  the  boss? 

The  questions  that  a  girl  of  fourteen,  probably  fin- 
ishing with  qualified  instruction  and  going  into  the 
world  to  make  her  own  way,  ought  to  be  made  to  ask 
herself  and  answer  for  herself,  are  so  numerous  that 


GIRLS'  SCHOOLING 

I  cannot  begin  to  set  them  all  down.  But  at  the  risk 
of  sacrificing  some  cube  root  and  the  date  of  the  battle 
of  Brandy  wine,  I  do  maintain  that  she  should  be 
encouraged  to  ask  and  answer  them. 

During  one  school  year  in  Chicago  12,538  children 
under  sixteen  years  of  age  were  granted  working  cer- 
tificates. Of  these  children,  4,560  of  whom  were 
girls,  8,985  were  only  fourteen  years  of  age,  and 
1,557  had  not  yet  reached  the  fifth  grade.  They 
came  from  homes  where  the  stress  was  no  greater 
than  the  ignorance  of  how  these  children  were  to 
bear  it. 

Supported  by  a  grant  from  the  Russell  Sage  Foun- 
dation, the  Social  Investigation  Department  of  the 
Chicago  School  of  Civics  and  Philanthropy  undertook 
a  study  of  this  situation.  The  findings  with  regard 
to  boys  are  beyond  our  present  scope.  But  with  re- 
gard to  girls  their  report  was  that  "  in  many  cases — 
one  might  almost  say  the  majority  of  cases — the  girls 
under  sixteen  seemed  hopelessly  unfitted  for  any  good 
place."  And  yet,  effort  to  induce  the  girls  to  stay 
longer  in  schools  is  often  futile.  What  do  the  schools 
teach  them  that  recognizably  enhances  their  effi- 
ciency? 

The  haphazard  way  in  which  these  thousands  of 
girls  annually  drift  into  employment  with  little  or  no 
thought  of  their  fitness  for  it,  its  promise  of  future 
advancement  or  even  of  present  safety,  is  alarming. 
Especially  so  when  we  reflect  that  the  irregular  em- 


THE  WORK-A-DAY  GIRL 

ployment  of  young  workers  at  the  beginning  of  their 
industrial  careers  is  one  of  the  most  insidious  evils 
that  they  have  to  combat  in  their  ignorance  and  in- 
adequacy. 

So,  in  June,  1911,  the  investigators  undertook — by 
way  of  an  experiment  educational  to  themselves  as 
well  as  helpful  to  a  few  children — "  to  interview  and 
to  place  all  of  the  children  who  were  planning  to  go 
to  work  at  the  end  of  the  school  year  in  the  Wash- 
burne  School,  one  of  the  largest  on  the  West  Side. 
Office  hours  were  kept  in  a  neighbouring  settlement, 
and  the  principal  was  glad  to  cooperate  by  sending 
the  children  to  us  and  by  giving  his  personal  advice. 
Besides  interviewing  the  children,  the  homes  were  all 
visited,  and  when  the  parents  seemed  able  to  keep 
the  child  in  school  longer  they  were  strongly  urged  to 
do  so." 

Of  the  254  children  interviewed,  80  were  girls 
whose  ages  were  as  follows: 

Age  Number  of  girls 

14  years  . 23 

15  years 21 

16  years 23 

over  16  years 13 

80 

Of  these  girls,  7  were  persuaded  to  take  fur- 
ther schooling;  4  found  work  for  themselves  or 
through  parents  or  friends;  49  were  placed  in  posi- 
tions; 15  are  still  on  the  waiting  list — idle;  neither  at 


GIRLS'  SCHOOLING  233 

school  nor  at  work,  and  in  the  gravest  moral  danger 
—and  5  were  given  up  as  hopeless,  "  for  whom  noth- 
ing could  be  done." 

The  industries  in  which  the  49  girls  were 
placed  included  sewing  trades  (5),  engraving  (9), 
bookkeeping  (18),  office  work  (10),  millinery  (2), 
weaving  (3),  sample  work  (2). 

Many  things  were  considered  in  placing  a  girl;  her 
preference,  the  kind  of  ability  she  had  shown  in 
school;  her  health;  her  family  circumstances,  and 
so  on. 

The  result  of  the  experiment  is  that  Chicago  is 
waking  to  the  need  of  vocational  training  and  to  the 
duty  of  the  school  board  not  only  to  fit  young  persons, 
definitely  instead  of  vaguely,  for  life;  but  to  help  them 
find  their  earliest  industrial  associations,  and  to  give 
them,  during  the  first  years  of  their  struggle  to  apply 
what  they  have  learned,  benevolent  oversight  and 
advice  and  even  intercession. 

Vocational  training — special  instruction  through 
theory  and  practice,  in  some  specific  work  for  which 
the  student  has  taste  and  ability,  and  at  which  she 
may  hope  to  make  a  living — for  the  years  between 
fourteen  and  sixteen  is  so  urgently  demanded 
as  to  leave  no  room  for  debate.  But  it  is  a  sub- 
ject far  too  great  to  be  taken  up  here  in  a  para- 
graph. 

What  I  beg  to  emphasize  here,  is  the  recently 
published  Government  report  on  "  The  Relation  of 


THE  WORK-A-DAY  GIRL 

Occupation  to  Criminality  and  Immorality  Among 
Women." 

It  finds,  as  every  investigation  into  the  subject  must 
find,  that  efficiency  is  the  greatest  moral  safeguard 
we  know;  and  that  specific  efficiency  is  like  armour- 
plate  in  a  woman's  defence  against  crime  and  im- 
morality :  there  may,  indeed,  be  lances  that  can  pierce 
its  joints,  but  that  is  no  reason  for  sending  any  one 
into  the  fight  without  it. 

With  regard  to  women  in  prisons  and  other  penal 
institutions,  the  investigator  found  that  "  the  ma- 
jority are  usually  unintelligent,  and  their  training,  or 
rather  their  lack  of  training,  has  left  undeveloped 
what  capacity  for  clear  thinking  they  may  originally 
have  possessed.  In  the  overwhelming  majority 
of  cases  a  distant  acquaintance  with  the  three  R's 
was  the  limit  of  intellectual  culture.  But  the  low 
scholastic  training  is  of  infinitely  less  importance  than 
the  lack  of  training  in  self-control,  in  the  domestic 
arts,  in  a  realization  of  the  rights  of  others,  in  a  sense 
of  social  interrelations;  in  a  word,  in  the  science  of 
living.  .  .  .  Everywhere  the  officers  were  agreed 
that  the  prison  woman  is  in  the  main  a  woman  who 
does  not  know  how  to  do  anything  well.  They  are, 
for  the  most  part,  untrained  and  unskilled,  women 
without  a  trade,  who,  if  they  work  at  all,  drift  from 
one  low  grade  of  employment  to  another."  She 
quotes  an  authority  on  women  in  prison,  who  says: 
"  Our  girls  as  a  class  are  antisocial.  It  is  very  hard 


GIRLS'  SCHOOLING  235 

for  them  to  see  their  conduct  in  its  relation  to  the 
lives  of  those  around  them.  They  are  individualistic 
in  the  extreme." 

The  industrial  status  of  most  of  the  girls  received 
into  maternity  homes  for  unmarried  mothers,  "  seems 
to  parallel  closely  that  of  the  women  found  in  the 
courts  and  prisons." 

In  a  study  of  thirty  typical  girls  from  the  "  red 
light  "  district  of  New  York,  some  significant  facts 
were  disclosed.  One  girl  had  left  school  at  9  years 
of  age,  two  at  10,  three  at  12,  six  each  at  13,  14, 
and  15,  four  at  16,  and  two  at  17;  but  one  who  had 
gone  till  she  was  15  had  not  reached  the  first  gram- 
mar grade,  and  one  who  had  gone  "  off  and  on " 
until  she  was  16  could  not  remember  what  grade 
she  had  reached,  but  had  difficulty  in  reading  simple 
prose.  Most  of  them  idled  for  a  while  after  leaving 
school.  Only  2  of  the  30  had  any  industrial 
plan  or  preference,  let  alone  any  skill.  The  other  28 
had  taken  up  and  dropped,  in  the  course  of  very  brief 
industrial  careers,  more  than  three  different  varieties 
of  work  each,  on  an  average.  ''  There  was  no  trace 
of  any  idea  that  one  occupation  could  be  used  as  a 
training  school  for  something  better,  no  slightest  sign 
of  any  general  purpose,  underlying  their  work.  .  .  . 
Apparently  they  are  simply  untrained  girls,  with  little 
knowledge  of  how  to  do  anything  well." 

Merest  self-interest  should  teach  us  to  do  better 
than  we  are  doing.  If  Chicago  alone  annually 


236  THE  WORK-A-DAY  GIRL 

dumps  twelve  thousand  children  under  sixteen  into 
the  labour  mart,  what  must  be  the  total  for  the  whole 
country?  Of  what  are  we  thinking,  even  with  ref- 
erence to  our  own  selfish  protection,  when  we  try 
to  assimilate  such  a  mass?  And  if  we  have  any 
vision  of  the  future,  any  sense  of  our  solemn  re- 
sponsibility for  the  youth  entrusted  to  us  to  prepare 
for  their  work  in  continuing  and  improving  the  race, 
are  we  not  mad — stark  mad? 


FORCED  OUT 

WEARILY,  resentfully,  Mattie  set  the  table 
for  supper:  one,  two,  three,  four  stone- 
china  plates  from  which  the  stencilled  pat- 
tern was  all  but  obliterated  in  thousands  of  washings ; 
one,  two,  three,  four  knives  at  the  right  of  the  plates 
and  forks  at  the  left;  one,  two,  three,  four  cups  and 
saucers  of  the  same  faded  sort;  the  sugar-bowl  and 
the  glass  spoon-holder;  two  sets  of  salt  and  pepper 
shakers;  four  saucers  for  the  spiced  plums.  Then 
she  fetched  the  butter  and  the  cream ;  set  the  cake  on 
the  table  in  the  spot  where  it  was  always  set;  sliced 
some  cold  meat  left  from  dinner;  looked  into  the 
oven  to  see  if  her  biscuits  were  browning;  stirred  her 
skilletful  of  frying  potatoes;  and  drew  the  boiling 
coffee  back  from  the  front  of  the  stove. 

Mattie  was  small  and  slight.  Her  hair  was  a 
pale  brown,  and  her  face  was  nearly  the  same  hue — 
rather  muddy  than  pasty.  Her  eyes  were  gray-blue; 
there  was  a  vertical  line  between  them,  witness  to 
repeated  puckers  which  I  hate  to  call  scowls.  And 
her  mouth  was  set  in  the  mould  of  fretfulness.  Mat- 
tie  was  twenty-six. 

237 


238  THE  WORK-A-DAY  GIRL 

The  back  door  opened,  and  her  mother  came  in. 
She  had  been  feeding  her  chickens. 

"  That  quilt  didn't  get  dry.     I  knew  it  wouldn't !  " 

Mrs.  Williams  was  fifty-two,  and  twice  as  much  of 
everything  as  Mattie  was,  except  twice  as  small;  but 
she  was  more  than  twice  as  tired  and  twice  as  resent- 
ful of  something — she  didn't  know  just  what. 

"  Well,"  Mattie  answered,  as  if  it  wasn't  her  fault 
that  the  quilt  didn't  dry,  "  you  can  leave  it  hang 
there  till  it  does;  there  ain't  no  hurry." 

"Leave  it  hang  there  for  the  Portuguese,  you 
mean!  I  guess  not!  " 

The  neighbourhood  had  been  invaded,  in  recent 
years,  by  several  families  of  Portuguese  who  seemed 
to  be  provided  with  none  of  the  necessities  of  life 
except  innumerable  children.  These  people  had  rented 
small  abandoned  farms  which  they  were  proceeding 
to  cultivate  almost  without  any  other  equipment  than 
the  family  muscle;  they  all  scratched  and  dug  and 
planted  and  weeded,  and  cut  grain  with  sickles,  and 
did  other  archaic  things — but  they  bought  the  farms, 
eventually,  and  got  a  living  out  of  them  for  the 
numerous  progeny,  and  had  money  in  the  bank,  be- 
sides. People  like  the  Williamses,  whose  forbears 
had  tilled  this  valley  for  a  hundred  years,  bitterly  re- 
sented the  Portuguese  invasion;  and  most  of  them 
professed  a  belief  thart  the  foreigners  "  got  on  "  not 
merely  by  industry  and  frugality,  but  by  supplying 
their  needs  out  of  back  yards  and  chicken-coops  and 


FORCED  OUT  239 

orchards,  and  saving  their  money  to  put  in  the  bank. 

So  Mrs.  Williams  brought  in  her  quilt,  still  heavily 
damp,  and  hung  it  in  the  summer  kitchen  and  wash- 
house. 

She  and  Mattie  kept  the  rambling  old  farmhouse 
in  a  condition  of  speckless  cleanliness  and  rigid  order- 
liness which  would  have  appalled  the  Portuguese 
women,  to  whom  a  house  was  little  more  than  a  shel- 
ter for  sleeping  in.  They  made  layer  cakes  with 
fancy  fillings,  and  hot  breads  every  day,  and  white 
and  graham  loaves  twice  a  week,  and  twenty-odd 
kinds  of  sauces  and  jellies  and  preserves,  and  pies 
or  pudding  for  every  dinner,  and  ice  cream  on  Sun- 
days in  summer,  so  that  it  was  nearly  always  time 
either  to  bake  something  or  to  set  forth  a  meal  or 
to  clear  away  and  wash  up.  No  wonder  the  Portu- 
guese, who  "  ate  out  of  their  hands  "  and  spent  little 
time  on  the  preparation  of  food,  could  work  all  day 
in  the  fields! 

"  Your  pa's  late,"  Mrs.  Williams  observed,  return- 
ing from  the  wash-house.  "  He  gets  to  gossippin', 
down  there,  and  never  thinks  that  we  might  like  to 
eat  an'  get  through." 

Eben  Williams  had  long  ago  given  up  general  farm- 
ing, and  had  become  a  specialist,  a  milk  farmer.  He 
kept  forty  cows,  and  once  a  day  he  drove  with  his 
cans  of  milk  four  miles,  to  the  milk  depot  in  High- 
port.  He  kept  a  farm-hand,  a  Bohemian  boy;  and 
the  boy  was  sent,  sometimes,  on  the  trips  to  the  vil- 


240  THE  WORK-A-DAY  GIRL 

lage — but  not  often;  Eben  liked  to  go;  he  liked  to 
get  away  from  the  company  of  the  stolid  Bohemian 
lad,  who  spoke  little  English,  and  to  mingle  with  men 
of  his  own  sort,  who  had  interests  in  common  with 
him  and  a  companionably  similar  outlook.  He  had 
never  known  any  other  life  than  farm  life;  and  he 
was  not  conscious  that  he  had  ever  actually  desired 
any  other.  Yet  he  knew  what  his  boys  meant  when 
they  rebelled  against  its  "  monotony.'*  He  had  given 
his  two  boys  more  schooling  than  he  had  had;  but 
it  was  not  the  kind  of  schooling  which  inspired,  or 
fostered,  any  enthusiasm  for  farming.  Eben  was 
"  old-fashioned  " ;  he  had  found  it  hard  to  believe  that 
"perfessers  can  teach  farming";  he  couldn't  "see 
the  sense  "  of  sending  his  boys  to  a  school  of  agri- 
culture ;  he  felt  sure  he  could  "  learn  'em  more  about 
farming  'n  what  any  perfesser  can."  So  he  sent 
them  to  study  things  of  which  he  knew  nothing — 
that  was  what  he  called  "  giving  them  advantages  " — • 
and  the  consequence  was  that  they  acquired  tastes 
and  interests  which  divorced  them  utterly  from  farm- 
ing: one  was  a  skilled  mechanic,  with  a  wanderlust; 
he  could  earn  his  way  wherever  he  went — and  he 
went  far  and  wide ;  the  other  was  a  clerk  in  a  Chicago 
mercantile  house,  married,  the  father  of  two  children, 
and  getting  along  on  $75  a  month — but  content  to 
live  "  cooped  up  "  (as  his  parents  phrased  it)  in  four 
small  rooms  of  a  great  barrack-like  flat  building,  be- 
cause he  believed  that  in  the  city,  in  mercantile  life, 


FORCED  OUT 

he  was  in  the  path  of  progress.  The  elder  of  the  two 
Williams  girls  had  married  a  farmer,  a  young  scien- 
tific farmer,  who  knew  a  lot  about  irrigation  and  soil- 
enrichment  and  like  lore,  and  was  turning  all  these 
things  to  profit  out  in  Idaho,  whither  he  had  mi- 
grated. Eben  had  a  good  many  different  kinds  of 
news  to  retail  among  "  the  gossips  of  the  port." 
When  he  was  at  home,  going  about  his  work,  he  felt 
very  desolate — because  he  could  not  see  what  was 
to  become  of  the  ancestral  farm  when  he  could  no 
longer  work  it  for  a  living.  But  when  he  was  sitting 
on  the  platform  of  the  milk  depot,  telling  his  old  ac- 
quaintances how  much  his  children  were  getting  out 
of  life,  he  felt  somehow  recompensed. 

"  It  don't  make  so  awful  much  difference  when  we 
get  through,"  Mattie  answered  her  mother.  "  All 
there  is  to  do  afterwards  is  just  go  to  bed." 

This  was  by  no  means  a  new  plaint,  but  it  never 
failed  to  cause  Mrs.  Williams'  heart  to  yearn  sym- 
pathetically. Mattie  felt  that  life  was  cheating  her 
unpardonably;  and  her  mother  felt  so,  too. 

It  seemed  impossible  to  spare  Mattie  from  the 
farm,  to  let  her  go  away  seeking,  as  her  brothers  had 
gone.  It  seemed  impossible  even  to  let  her  go  out 
to  Idaho,  where  Annie  would  have  welcomed  her  help 
pending  the  time  when  one  of  the  neighbouring  farm- 
ers should  woo  Mattie  and  make  her  his  wife. 
(Wives  were  as  scarce  in  Idaho  as  husbands  were  in 
New  York  State.)  Mrs.  Williams  felt  deeply  cha- 


THE  WORK-A-DAY  GIRL 

grined  to  have  a  twenty-six-year-old  daughter  who 
had  no  beau,  nor  any  prospect  of  one.  For  other 
families  round  about  were  little  different  from  the 
Williamses:  there  had  been  a  scattering,  particularly 
of  their  young  men.  Some  of  the  old  settlers  de- 
clared that  the  Portuguese  had  driven  the  native  sons 
out  and  away;  but  of  course  they  hadn't — they  had 
only  come  in  to  fill  the  void. 

If  Mattie  were  to  go  away,  her  mother  could  not 
do  the  work  of  the  farmhouse  alone — not  unless  she 
closed  her  memory  to  the  parlour  and  the  spare  room 
as  if  they  did  not  exist;  not  unless  she  eliminated 
layer-cakes  and  pies  and  puddings  and  hot  biscuits 
and  twenty-odd  kinds  of  jellies  and  sauces  and  pre- 
serves, from  her  menu;  not  unless  she  reduced  life  to 
a  mere  matter  of  keeping  alive,  and  forswore  all 
aspirations  engendered  by  women's  magazines  and 
mail-order  catalogues.  There  was  one  alternative! 
She  might  have  hired  a  girl  to  help  her,  as  Eben 
hired  a  boy  to  do  for  him  what  one  of  his  own  sons 
might  have  done  had  he  stayed  at  home.  But  the 
idea  scarcely  occurred  to  her  as  a  serious  one — it  was 
just  a  wild,  impractical  notion  she  entertained  for 
brief  moments  when  Mattie's  revolt  was  acutely  bit- 
ter. Eben  had  grudged  paying  anywhere  from 
thirty  to  forty  dollars  a  month  in  cash,  besides  giving 
board  and  washing,  to  a  boy  to  help  him  take  care  of 
the  cows;  but  he  consoled  himself  for  having  to  hire 
help,  by  the  reminder  that  he  got  pretty  good  money 


FORCED  OUT 

for  his  product,  and  got  it  regularly.  It  would  have 
been  impossible  to  reconcile  him  to  the  idea  of  hiring 
house  help  for  his  wife,  because  he  conceived  it  to 
be  her  "  business  "  to  run  the  house,  and  would  have 
refused  to  spend  any  money  on  household  labour  on 
the  ground  that  such  labour  is  unproductive. 

The  two  women  pored  over  the  magazines  to  which 
they  subscribed  out  of  the  only  money  they  ever  han- 
dled or  could  call  their  own:  the  egg  money.  They 
pondered  the  huge  catalogues  of  the  mail-order 
houses.  Mattie  yearned  to  buy  pretty  things  to  wear. 
Her  mother  yearned  to  buy  pretty  things  for  the 
house.  But  they  were  seldom  able  to  satisfy  their 
yearnings.  They  could  work  wonders  in  fashioning, 
but  they  could  not  create.  They  could  make  remark- 
able shift  with  odds  of  this  and  ends  of  that,  but  they 
could  not  make  something  out  of  nothing.  Just  now, 
Mrs.  Williams  was  exceedingly  anxious  to  have  some 
new  dishes;  but  she  couldn't  make  dishes — long  ago 
that  industry,  originated  by  women,  was  taken  out 
of  the  home  and  appropriated  by  men.  Just  now, 
Mattie  was  exceedingly  anxious  to  have  a  suit.  She 
might  have  made  one,  of  a  sort,  if  she  had  the  cloth. 
But  sheep-raising  has  moved  to  the  great  open  wastes, 
and  shearing,  combing,  carding,  spinning,  dyeing, 
weaving  are  no  longer  home  industries;  men  have 
taken  them  over,  and  specialized  them,  and  although 
women  work  at  them,  no  woman  works  at  all  of  them 
nor  at  all  the  processes  of  any  one. 


THE  WORK-A-DAY  GIRL 

A  primitive  household  had  to  be  entirely  sufficient 
unto  its  own  needs.  As  men  grew  civilized,  they  did 
fewer  things — each  inclined  to  do  what  he  could  do 
best,  and  sold  his  product  to  supply  his  wants.  And 
as  man's  original  share  of  the  world's  work  was  hunt- 
ing game  for  food,  and  fighting  his  human  and  brute 
enemies,  he  had — when  those  occupations  were  no 
longer  so  demanding  as  to  keep  all  the  males  busy — 
to  take  over  women's  occupations,  one  by  one.  But 
each  man  tended  to  take  over  only  one,  that  he  liked 
to  do,  and  to  leave  his  women  all  the  rest. 

Women  were  the  first  tillers  of  the  ground.  They 
were  the  first  tanners  and  weavers  and  spinners  and 
dyers;  the  first  millers  and  potters.  They  invented 
the  processes,  and  the  instruments  for  carrying  them 
on.  They  were  the  first  architects  and  the  first  deco- 
rative artists.  They  tamed  the  first  wild  animals 
and  made  them  domestic  helpers.  They  were  the 
earliest  physicians,  and  the  first  priests  and  prophets. 
If  the  theory  of  the  matriarchate  be  not  denied,  they 
were  the  first  lawgivers. 

Little  by  little,  man  has  taken  woman's  work,  spe- 
cialized it,  and  made  himself  an  independent  economic 
factor.  Even  to  the  extent  of  making  her  hats  and 
clothes  and  cooking  her  food  and  teaching  her  chil- 
dren, he  has  invaded  the  last  of  what  she  supposed 
were  her  inviolable  fields,  and  has  made  money  and 
won  distinction  by  doing  things  that,  when  she  did 
them,  were  considered  as  much  a  part  of  her  business 


FORCED  OUT  245 

of  self-sustaining  (and  therefore  as  little  entitled 
to  reward)  as  respiration  and  sleep  and  digestion. 

Eben  Williams  did  fewer  kinds  of  work  than  his 
father  had  done,  but  it  seemed  to  him  that  he  worked 
as  hard  as  his  father  had  ever  worked.  Mrs.  Wil- 
liams and  Mattie  did  as  many  kinds  of  things  as 
Eben's  mother  and  sisters  had  done ;  but  because  some 
of  the  things  his  mother  and  grandmother  had  per- 
formed unquestioningly  were  refused  by  his  wife  and 
daughter,  Eben  thought  that  women  nowadays  are 
determined  to  take  life  easier.  He  could  not  realize 
that  although  his  womenfolk  did  not  "  milk/'  they 
had  a  great  deal  of  work  with  the  cans  and  pails  and 
strainers  of  an  "  inspected  "  dairy  farm  beyond  what 
his  mother  had  ever  known;  that  although  his  mother 
had  made  her  own  soap  and  lard  and  candles,  she 
had  not  made  iced  layer-cakes  or  embroidered  centre- 
pieces for  her  table.  He  felt  that  women  nowadays 
make  fewer  of  the  things  they  need,  and  want  to  buy 
more  and  more.  He  knew  that  he  himself  bought 
many  things  which  his  father  would  never  have 
thought  of  buying;  but  he  argued  that  he  was  justi- 
fied, because  his  concentration  in  industry  paid  him 
a  cash  profit.  The  women  were  not  justified  in  want- 
ing to  buy,  because  (he  argued)  their  diffused  indus- 
try paid  no  cash  profit. 

Williams  wasn't  a  hard  man;  he  was  only  "  slow." 
He  knew  that  Mattie  was  discontented,  but  he  sup- 
posed that  it  was  more  or  less  natural  for  a  girl  to 


246  THE  WORK-A-DAY  GIRL 

feel  bad  if  she  hadn't  any  beau.  That  there  might 
be  any  way  for  a  girl  to  feel  tolerably  satisfied  with 
life  other  than  by  getting  married,  did  not  occur  to 
him  as  possible.  That  he  "  supported "  his  two 
womenfolk,  it  never  occurred  to  Eben  Williams  to 
doubt.  Just  what  they  might  be  said  to  do  for  them- 
selves by  their  unremitting  labours,  he  had  not  trou- 
bled himself  to  define — not  even  as  he  drove  home  to 
his  supper  this  evening  that  I  have  described. 

"  Joshua  Winter's  most  desp'rate,"  he  announced, 
at  table — looking  meaningfully  at  Mattie,  as  if  here 
was  something  to  silence  a  girl  that  was  afraid  she 
might  not  always  be  took  care  of — "  he  says  he  can't 
seem  to  get  nobody  that's  worth  her  salt,  to  keep 
house  for  him."  (The  Bohemian  boy  had  bolted  his 
supper  and  gone  out.) 

Joshua  Winter  was  also  a  dairy-farmer.  He  was 
sixty-five;  his  only  son  was  ranching  in  Oklahoma; 
his  daughters  were  married,  and  lived  at  some  dis- 
tance; and  his  wife  had  died  six  months  ago.  He 
was  amazed  to  find  that  nowhere  among  the  unat- 
tached females  of  his  connection  and  acquaintance 
was  there  one  who  was  willing  to  come  and  run  his 
house  "  for  her  keep."  He  was  more  than  amazed — 
he  was  indignant. 

"  He's  had  to  let  that  last  woman  he  got,  go," 
Eben  went  on.  "  She  wouldn't  do  but  just  so-much, 
and  she  had  to  be  drove  over  to  Highport  every  little 
while  because  she  said  she  was  lonesome  an'  needed 


FORCED  OUT  247 

a  change.  And  he  had  to  pay  her  twenty  dollars  a 
month!  Upshot  of  it'll  be,  Joshua'll  have  to  get 
married  again.  Too  bad  he's  such  an  old  one,  Mat- 
tie!" 

Mrs.  Williams'  eyes  flashed. 

"  If  Mattie's  goin'  to  work  to  save  some  man 
payin'  wages,  she  might's  well  do  it  here.  It's  about 
what  marryin'  mostly  comes  to,  anyhow ! " 

Eben  looked  at  her  in  astonishment. 

"  How  you  talk ! "  he  answered,  reproachfully. 
"  When  folks  belong  in  fam'lies,  they  all  work  to- 
gether, for  each  other.  You  work  an'  I  work.  But 
do  I  get  any  more  out  of  it  than  what  you  do?  Do 
I  get  a  better  bed  or  more  to  eat  an'  drink  than  what 
you  do  ?  " 

"Bed  an'  board  ain't  everything!"  his  wife  re- 
torted. "  I  work  as  hard  as  you  do,  but  I  don't  get 
to  decide  when  we  need  some  new  dishes!  Mattie 
works  as  hard  as  either  of  us — but  when  she  wants  a 
suit  o'  clothes  she's  got  to  ask  you  if  you're  willin' 
for  her  to  have  'em!  If  we're  all  workin'  for  each 
other,  why  is  there  only  one  of  us  that  says  what  the 
others  shall  do  an'  have?  If  I'm  earnin'  my  way, 
same  as  you're  earnin'  yours,  why  don't  I  have  any- 
thing to  say  about  the  earnin's?  Why  are  you  the 
only  one  that  says  if  we're  to  have  a  new  thing  now 
an'  then  to  make  the  house  decent?  " 

"  Because,"  Eben  answered,  trying  to  keep  his  tem- 
per, and  growing  quite  judicial  in  manner,  "  there 


248  THE  WORK-A-DAY  GIRL 

has  got  to  be  a  head  to  everything,  and  I'm  the  head 
of  this  house.  It's  my  house,  and  my  land.  I'm 
sharin'  with  you  all  I  can.  Most  women'd  call  me  a 
mighty  good  provider.  Women  ain't  got  sense  about 
money — they  don't  know  what  'tis  to  earn  it,  and 
their  one  notion  is  to  spend." 

"  They  know  what  'tis  to  earn  it,  all  right ! "  Mrs. 
Williams  declared.  "  But  they  don't  know  what  'tis 
to  get  it." 

Eben  Williams  considered  such  talk  profaning  to 
the  home.  His  mother  had  never  thought  about 
"  wages  "  and  "  rights  " !  She  did  what  there  was 
to  do,  and  if  she  wasn't  grateful  for  the  opportunity, 
no  one  (that  he  was  aware!)  had  ever  heard  her  com- 
plain. 

He  couldn't  see  what  ailed  Euphemia  and  Mattie: 
but  he  believed  it  was  reading  about  the  ranting,  rav- 
ing creatures  that  wanted  to  vote,  that  had  put  crazy 
notions  in  their  head.  Lord  knew  he  was  no  tyrant. 
But  he  sometimes  thought  women  would  be  better  off 
if  they  didn't  know  how  to  read.  There  used  to  be 
a  lot  more  contentment  among  'em;  and  they  worked 
harder  and  had  more  children.  His  mother  had 
given  birth  to  eleven.  If  he  had  had  six  sons — as  his 
father  had — he  wouldn't  need  to  be  hiring  a  Bohe- 
mian boy  for  thirty  dollars  a  month!  .  .  . 

Thus  and  thus  the  Williamses!  And  it  came  to 
pass  that  presently  they  left  the  farm  and  moved  to 
Chicago.  The  reasons  were  many.  One  was  that 


FORCED  OUT  249 

Eben  had  a  good  chance  to  sell  the  farm.  Once  upon 
a  time  Eben  would  not  have  considered  that  that  was 
any  reason  at  all.  But  what  with  his  boys'  distaste 
for  farming,  and  with  the  practical  certainty  that  the 
farm  would  be  sold  after  his  death,  and  with  the  in- 
vasion of  the  Portuguese,  and  the  unsatisf actor iness 
of  hired  help,  and  the  growing  dissatisfaction  of  the 
women,  AND  the  offer  (secured  by  Bob)  of  a  good 
job  in  Chicago  as  general  indoor  man  at  a  branch 
depot  of  one  of  the  big  milk  companies,  with  a  salary 
of  $65  a  month,  he  decided  to  go.  Everything 
worked  together  for  the  move.  Some  things  about 
it  were  hard — leaving  the  old  home;  parting  from  the 
live  creatures,  even  to  the  beloved  Collie ;  turning  their 
backs  on  everything  familiar,  and  facing  a  world  all 
strange — and  the  wrench  was  more  severe  than  any 
of  the  Williamses  had  anticipated  it  would  be.  But 
by  that  time  it  was  too  late  to  turn  back;  the  money 
for  the  sale  was  in  the  bank  "  against "  Eben's  and 
Euphemia's  old  age  and  their  children's  inheritance, 
and  the  future  must  be  faced. 

The  transition  was  less  sharp  than  it  might  have 
been.  The  neighbourhood  in  which  Eben  was  to 
work  was  a  semi-suburban  one,  and  they  were  able 
to  find  a  five-room  flat  on  the  first  floor  of  a  detached 
frame  house.  There  was  ground  enough  to  give 
Mrs.  Williams  some  opportunity  for  flower-garden- 
ing. There  was  electric  light  and  a  gas-stove.  They 
would  have  to  depend  on  stove-heat  for  warmth  in 


250  THE  WORK-A-DAY  GIRL 

winter,  but  as  they  were  accustomed  to  that  it  was 
no  hardship.  There  was  a  bathroom,  which  was  a 
luxury.  They  paid  sixteen  dollars  a  month  for  rent. 
Bob's  wife  (Bob  was  the  Williamses'  son  in  Chicago) 
seemed  to  feel  that  they  were  subject  to  commisera- 
tion because  they  had  no  steam  heat  and  no  janitor 
service.  But  Mrs.  Williams  and  Mattie  laughed,  and 
declared  that  even  as  things  were,  they  did  not  know 
what  to  do  with  themselves. 

They  still  baked  bread,  and  on  Saturday  mornings 
Mattie  made  a  cake  and  a  couple  of  pies.  They  did 
their  washing  and  ironing.  They  kept  the  five  small 
rooms  clean  and  orderly.  They  got  ready  three 
meals  a  day.  But  time  hung  heavy  on  their  hands. 
At  first,  it  seemed  to  them  that  they  could  never  tire  of 
the  shops,  the  crowds  in  the  streets,  the  parks,  the 
sights.  But  the  only  truly  zestful  holidaying  is  that 
which  is  snatched,  as  'twere,  from  demanding  work; 
the  moment  leisure  loses  its  "  all-too-brief-ness,"  that 
moment  it  begins  to  become  irksome  or,  at  least,  only 
measurably  joyful.  Moreover,  it  requires  a  consid- 
erable mental  equipment  to  make  loafing  without 
spending,  enjoyable;  it  requires  a  stoic  philosophy  to 
look  on  at  a  never-ending  display  of  attractive  things 
and  be  content  to  possess  none  of  them. 

At  first,  Mattie  regarded  the  "  stylish "  girls  and 
women,  the  overwhelming  displays  in  the  shops,  as 
quite  apart  from  herself.  She  was  a  delighted,  be- 
wildered onlooker  at  a  glittering  parade.  If  she  felt 


FORCED  OUT  251 

that  it  would  be  "  lovely  "  to  be  in  the  parade,  she  felt 
it  only  as  a  child  does  who  looks  on  at  a  circus-parade, 
trying  to  imagine  herself  part  and  parcel  of  such  a 
splendidly  unreal  life,  but  never  quite  believing  in 
the  possibility  of  her  entering  it.  In  those  days, 
Mattie  looked  upon  it  all  with  hardly  an  idea  of  ap- 
propriating any — the  Robespierre  collars  any  more 
than  the  diamond  necklaces,  the  silk  stockings  any 
more  than  the  paradise  feathers,  the  boutonniere  bou- 
quets any  more  than  the  French  gowns  with  their  slit- 
skirts  and  rat-tail  trains  and  glitter  of  rhinestones. 
Then,  gradually,  she  began  to  differentiate,  to  select. 
The  girl  who  lived  upstairs  wore  silk  stockings  on 
Sundays,  with  her  Colonial  pumps;  little  shop-girls 
who  were  not  even  "  salesladies  "  wore  Robespierre 
collars ;  Bob's  wife  wore  a  boutonniere  on  her  tailored 
coat.  Mattie  began  to  feel  herself  "  unnecessarily 
countrified."  Her  last  summer's  hat,  which  would 
have  answered  perfectly  well  for  another  summer  in 
the  country,  "wouldn't  do,  here,  at  all";  it  was  not 
only  not  in  style,  but  it  was  conspicuously  out  of  style. 
It  was  one  thing  to  be  an  unobserved  onlooker  at  the 
show,  and  it  was  quite  another  thing  to  feel  that  you 
were  yourself  "a  show" — of  an  unenviable  sort. 
Mattie  wanted  a  new  hat.  She  found  that  it  would 
be  cheaper  to  buy  a  Robespierre  collar  than  to  get  the 
materials  and  make  one,  and  she  wanted  some  money 
for  that.  She  wanted  some  gloves.  She  wanted  to 
buy  lace  and  embroidery  and  ribbons  and  patterns, 


THE  WORK-A-DAY  GIRL 

and  try  to  make  herself  some  lingerie  like  that  dis- 
played in  the  cheaper  department  stores. 

But  Eben  Williams  was  not  prepared  to  meet  these 
demands.  He  was  willing,  he  said,  to  provide  Mattie 
with  what  she  needed — but  he  felt  that  his  idea  of 
need,  and  not  her  notions  of  want,  ought  to  determine 
what  she  should  have.  He  was  alarmed  at  the  way 
money  had,  apparently,  to  be  spent  in  a  city.  It  was 
hard  to  get  used  to  buying  chickens  and  eggs  and 
fruits  and  vegetables  and  butter  and  milk  and  even 
cottage  cheese.  The  idea  of  paying  twenty  cents 
a  pound  for  salt  pork  instead  of  pulling  it  out  of  the 
pork  barrel;  of  having  to  give  fifty  cents  a  peck  for 
apples  of  the  sort  he  had  been  wont  to  feed  to  his 
pigs;  of  paying  forty  cents  a  peck  for  potatoes  and 
forty  cents  a  pound  for  butter  and  nigh  onto  a  dollar 
for  a  sizable  chicken,  was  paralyzing.  No  wonder 
it  made  him  feel  that  money  for  clothes  must  be  kept 
to  the  minimum !  No  wonder  he  felt  that  for  people 
in  their  circumstances,  "  a  hat's  a  hat " ! 

Mattie,  however,  could  not  be  satisfied  merely  to 
be  fed  and  housed  and  clothed.  Food  and  shelter 
meant  comparatively  little  to  her  because  she  had 
never  suffered  for  lack  of  either.  Clothes  would 
probably  have  meant  no  more  to  her  if  she  had  had 
anything  else  to  fix  her  mind  upon,  and  if  the  rest  of 
the  world — in  so  far  as  she  was  able  to  see  it! — had 
found  anything  else  to  fix  its  mind  upon.  But  Mattie 
had  no  great  preoccupation.  She  had  no  splendid 


FORCED  OUT  253 

absorption  which  rendered  dress,  like  food  and  lodg- 
ing, merely  incidental.  She  had  no  driving  ambition 
at  whose  behest  sacrifices  of  trifling  gratifications  be- 
came sweet.  She  was  just  an  ordinary  little  person, 
living  along  from  day  to  day,  "  somehow,'"'  on  what- 
ever interests  the  day  provided — and  they  were 
neither  many  nor  worthy. 

She  was  not  analytical.  She  did  not  realize  that  it 
was  her  uselessness,  her  superfluousness,  which  made 
her  restless,  miserable.  In  the  country  she  had  cer- 
tainly not  been  useless;  she  had  felt  that  her  mother 
could  not  get  on  without  her.  And  while  it  did  not 
seem  to  her  that  she  was  fully  recompensed  for  her 
toil,  she  had  (although  she  was  not  aware  of  it)  a 
deeper  source  of  self-respect  than  getting  all  you 
earn — which  is,  earning  all  you  get ! 

Here,  she  was  instinctively,  if  not  reasoningly,  con- 
scious of  being  a  dependent.  There  was  nothing  to 
look  forward  to  but  the  chance  of  getting  married. 
And  that  seemed  to  be  a  poor  chance.  Mattie 
thought  it  was  a  poor  chance  because  she  was  "  not 
pretty "  and  because  she  could  not  buy  attractive 
clothes  to  enhance  her  appearance.  Many  girls  as 
plain  as  she,  and  plainer,  married;  and  Mattie  sup- 
posed they  must  have  had  the  wherewithal  to  make 
themselves  attractive.  It  was  one  of  the  articles  of 
faith  in  Mrs.  Williams'  rules  for  bringing  up  a 
daughter,  that  beauty  is  only  skin  deep,  and  another 
that  housewifely  arts  are  prized  by  "  sensible  "  young 


THE  WORK-A-DAY  GIRL 

men  when  they  go  a-courting.  But  nothing  in  Mat- 
tie's  little  experience  seemed  to  impress  her  with  the 
desirability  of  qualities  deeper  than  the  cuticle,  or 
even  than  the  "  peekaboo "  dry  goods  wherewith 
women  now  cover  their  skin  without  concealing  any 
more  than  they  have  to.  She  met  the  young  people 
who  were  Bob's  and  Ida's  acquaintances;  most  of 
them  were  young  married  folk,  struggling  mightily 
to  make  five-thousand-dollar-a-year  appearances  on 
thousand-dollar  salaries.  Mattie  had  no  reason  to 
suppose  that  these  young  wives  had  been  chosen  for 
their  ability  to  keep  house  and  sew  and  save  money. 
Perhaps  their  talk  was  deliberately  misleading;  but 
they  seemed  to  think  that  the  more  they  proclaimed 
their  uselessness  as  housewives,  the  more  evident  it 
would  become  that  they  had  been  wooed  and  won  on 
a  plane  of  high  romance.  As  if  romance  moved  in 
inverse  ratio  to  suitability. 

Mattie  listened  to  the  talk  at  Ida's,  and  to  her 
mother's  counsel,  and  drew  her  own  conclusions. 
She  was  not  especially  eager  to  get  married,  but  she 
was  eager  for  adventure,  for  something  that  might, 
even  briefly,  transmute  existence  into  life;  and  she 
was  now  convinced  that  demure  apprenticeship  to  the 
housewifely  arts  is  not,  whatever  it  may  once  have 
been,  the  woman's  one  straight  road  to  happiness,  to 
safety,  to  well-being. 

After  a  family  council,  it  was  decided  that  she 
might  "  go  to  work."  Her  father  felt  a  little  shame 


FORCED  OUT  255 

in  allowing  her  to  go,  because  the  traditions  of  his 
family  were  that  the  men  always  managed  to  support 
their  womenfolk ;  also,  he  had  heard  tales  of  the  dan- 
gers which  beset  working  girls.  But  he  yielded  to 
the  weight  of  contrary  opinion.  Bob  declared  it 
would  "  do  Mattie  good,  sharpen  her  wits,  and  show 
her  what  life  is."  Ida  pleaded  that  she  had  been  a 
bread-winner  before  she  was  married,  and  she  was 
sure  it  hadn't  hurt  her — that,  as  for  temptation,  she 
had  heard  of  more  than  one  girl  being  led  away  from 
prayer-meeting.  Mrs.  Williams  smothered  her  re- 
gretfulness  at  the  prospect  of  long,  lonely  days,  and 
urged  that  it  was  a  pity  for  Mattie  not  to  be  able  to 
have  things  like  other  girls  had,  and  she  didn't  see 
why  Mattie  shouldn't  earn  them  as  other  girls 
did. 

So  it  was  agreed  that  Mattie  should  go  to  work. 
All  that  remained  to  determine  was  what  she  should 
do.  Eben  had  been  able  to  find  a  place  in  the  com- 
plex city  life,  and  to  find  it  quickly,  because  he  knew 
a  great  deal  about  an  important  article  of  universal 
consumption:  milk.  If  he  had  been  a  "general" 
farmer,  with  no  specialized  knowledge,  the  city  would 
less  easily  have  assimilated  him.  Mattie  was  hard 
to  place  because  she  was  a  "  general "  manufacturer, 
or  houseworker;  she  did  not  know  enough  of  any  one 
branch  of  domestic  manufacturing  to  enter  it  as  an 
expert;  and  of  the  two  demands  for  general  house- 
workers — i.e.,  wives  and  maids-of-all-work — she  did 


256  THE  WORK-A-DAY  GIRL 

not  know  where  to  find  a  place  as  the  former,  and  did 
not  fancy  the  terms  of  the  latter  service. 

Bob  and  Ida  were  strongly  opposed  to  the  idea  of 
Mattie's  "  working  out,"  on  the  grounds  of  the  social 
stigma.  Mrs.  Williams  was  opposed  to  it  because  it 
would  oblige  Mattie  to  live  as  well  as  to  work  away 
from  home.  Eben  Williams  objected  to  such  service 
when  it  was  explained  to  him  that,  contrary  to  such 
custom  as  he  had  known  in  the  country,  his  daughter 
if  she  hired  herself  out  to  do  for  strangers  such  work 
as  she  had  always  done  at  home,  would  have  to  go 
in  and  out  by  back  doors,  to  receive  him  and  her 
mother  at  a  back  door  if  they  went  to  call  upon  her, 
and  to  eat  her  meals  alone,  apart  from  the  family 
she  served.  Mattie  wanted  to  live  in  her  home. 
She  wanted  to  have  her  parents'  companionship  in  the 
evenings  and  on  Sundays.  She  couldn't  bear  the 
thought  of  sitting  down  alone  in  a  kitchen  bedroom, 
after  her  day's  work  was  done;  of  having  no  one  to 
talk  to,  to  listen  to  her  account  of  the  day's  adven- 
tures, to  sympathize  with  her  over  its  unpleasantness. 
She  wanted  to  live  where  she  could  entertain  young 
people  she  might  meet.  Her  social  hunger,  which  had 
become  almost  starvation  in  the  country,  was  per- 
haps the  strongest  impulse  of  which  she  was  con- 
scious. She  yearned  to  be  among  people ;  to  work  in 
company  and  in  competition  with  others  of  her  own 
sort;  to  feel  the  thrill  of  the  race  to  excel.  She  was 
told  that  she  could  get  six  dollars  a  week  and  her 


FORCED  OUT  257 

board  and  lodging,  if  she  went  into  domestic  service. 
But  she  had  never  learned  to  reckon  board  and  lodg- 
ing in  terms  of  compensation;  she  had  a  home  in 
which  she  preferred  to  live;  and  she  could  get  six  dol- 
lars a  week  as  a  beginner  in  factory,  office,  or  store. 
Further  to  strengthen  her  resolution,  Bob  reminded 
her  that  whereas,  in  domestic  service,  it  was  seldom 
possible  to  get  more  than  seven  dollars  a  week  for 
general  housework,  in  other  kinds  of  work  it  was  "  up 
to  you  how  much  you  earn."  He  did  not  tell  her 
(because  he  did  not  know)  that  the  average  clerk  or 
factory-hand  or  store-girl  is  not  so  well  paid  as  the 
average  domestic  worker.  But  he  was  quite  within 
the  truth  in  saying  that  to  a  girl  who  hopes  to  reach 
above  the  average,  one  branch  of  service  offers  little 
if  any  chance,  and  others  offer  chances  limited  only 
by  the  workers'  capabilities.  Not  many  girls  rise 
from  the  position  of  stock-girl  to  buyer,  from  office 
girl  to  private  secretary  of  the  firm's  president,  from 
machine  operator  to  forewoman;  but  some  do — some 
are  always  unmistakably  so  rising.  Whereas  no  girl, 
in  all  probability,  ever  rose  from  general  house- 
worker  to  become  a  high-priced  chef,  or  a  high-sala- 
ried managing  housekeeper,  or  a  club  steward,  or 
anything  that  might  satisfy  the  ambition  of  one  who 
worked  harder  than  "  the  average "  and  developed 
more  than  average  skill. 

Mattie  didn't  know  what   she  could  do,  but   she 
wanted  to  work  at  something  that  held  rewards  if 


258  THE  WORK-A-DAY  GIRL 

she  could  earn  them.  Whatever  she  went  into  she 
must  enter  as  an  unskilled  worker,  practically  an  ap- 
prentice. It  was  difficult  for  her  to  say  what  kinds 
of  specialized  labour  might  attract  her,  for  which 
ones  she  might  develop  an  aptitude;  because  there 
were  so  few  kinds  of  which  she  had  any  knowledge. 
She  could  not  compare  office,  factory,  and  store,  be- 
cause she  knew  nothing  whatever  of  the  two  former. 
She  knew  a  little  about  retail  selling  in  that  she  had 
at  least  seen  it  done.  So,  inasmuch  as  she  lived  "  at 
home,  with  her  parents "  and  seemed  to  think  $6 
an  entirely  satisfactory  wage  for  a  beginner,  she  was 
given  a  position  to  sell  certain  kinds  of  kitchen  hard- 
ware in  the  housefurnishing  section  of  a  big  depart- 
ment store. 

Thus  Mattie  Williams  became  a  wage-earner;  one 
of  those  "  restless  "  girls  so  censured  and  decried  by 
the  short-sighted  old  aunties  and  the  bewildered 
grandmas.  Her  father  was  earning  enough  to  house 
her  and  feed  her  and  cover  her  nakedness :  "  she 
should  have  stayed  at  home ;  this  traipsing  off  to  work 
gets  girls  into  all  kinds  of  trouble,  and  rubs  the  bloom 
off  them.  But  they  must  have  fol-de-rols,  and  ex- 
citement. I'm  sure  I  can't  see  what  we're  com- 
ing to ! " 

These  agitated  persons  are  quite  earnest,  and  quite 
unaware  that  they  are  seeing  no  further  than  the  ends 
of  their  noses.  They  see  Mattie  selling  tack-lifters 
and  screw-drivers  and  door-hinges,  and  she  typifies 


FORCED  OUT  259 

to  them  potential  wifehood  and  motherhood  and 
home-management,  perverted  to  strange,  unsexing 
occupations.  They  hear  of  the  five-room  flat  which 
could  not  continue  to  contain  Mattie  because  it  could 
not  keep  her  self-respectingly  busy,  and  they  weep 
over  Mattie's  faring  forth  "  in  quest  of  gewgaws." 
Not  even  though  Mattie,  interrogated,  were  to  swear 
that  it  was  to  get  gewgaws  she  went  forth,  would 
that  make  gewgaws  anything  but  a  confusing  inci- 
dent of  her  wage-earning.  There  was  a  time  when 
women  who  went  beyond  their  homes  to  earn  their 
living,  felt  ashamed  of  the  necessity  (they  never 
thought  of  it,  then,  as  Opportunity!)  and  lied,  feebly, 
about  wanting  "  pin  money."  There  is  some  of  that 
spirit  left;  there  are  still  some  women  who  feel  that 
while  it  would  be  derogatory  to  work  for  bread,  it  is 
perfectly  lady-like  to  work  for  cake — or  that,  if  bread 
must  be  earned,  it  preserves  the  nice  traditions  of 
femininity  to  pretend  that  the  work  is  being  done  for 
"  sweets."  Girls  like  Mattie,  whose  fathers  were 
alive  and  well  and  working,  used  to  feel  that  they  re- 
flected, somehow,  on  the  "  natural  breadwinner  "  of 
the  family,  if  they  admitted  that  they  went  to  work 
for  any  other  reason  than  to  get  "  spending  money." 
And  in  their  silly  pride,  these  women  and  girls  con- 
fused themselves,  and  others.  Such  notions  still 
flourish  in  England,  to  a  considerable  extent,  and  in 
the  Southern  States  of  our  country.  But  they  are  dis- 
appearing so  rapidly  that  it  is  easy  to  foresee  a  day, 


260  THE  WORK-A-DAY  GIRL 

not  distant,  when  such  strange  concepts  of  dignity 
and  propriety  will  be  as  difficult  to  understand  as 
to-day  it  is  difficult  for  us  to  appreciate  how  a  "  fe- 
male "  in  the  eighteenth  century  preserved  her  sense 
of  delicacy  by  feigning  not  to  eat  and  by  swooning 
easily  and  frequently. 

Women — barring  the  parasites  among  them — have 
always  worked;  they  have  always  worked  wherever 
(that  is  to  say,  in  whatever  fields)  the  labour  of  their 
hands  was  most  urgently  demanded.  They  have 
never  created  the  conditions  under  which  they  la- 
boured; they  have  always  adapted  themselves  and 
their  work  to  conditions  created  for  them. 

"  The  women  of  no  race  or  class,"  says  Olive 
Schreiner,  "  will  ever  rise  in  revolt  or  attempt  to 
bring  about  a  revolutionary  readjustment  of  their 
relation  to  their  society,  however  intense  their  suffer- 
ing and  however  clear  their  perception  of  it,  while 
the  welfare  and  persistence  of  their  society  requires 
their  submission;  wherever  there  is  a  general  attempt 
on  the  part  of  the  women  of  any  society  to  readjust 
their  position  in  it,  a  close  analysis  will  always  show 
that  the  changed  or  changing  conditions  of  that 
society  have  made  woman's  acquiescence  no  longer 
necessary  or  desirable. 

"  In  our  woman's  field  of  labour,  the  changes 
which  have  taken  place  during  the  last  centuries,  and 
which  we  sum  up  under  the  compendious  term  '  mod- 
ern civilization/  have  tended  to  rob  woman,  not 


FORCED  OUT  261 

merely  in  part  but  almost  wholly,  of  the  more  valu- 
able part  of  her  ancient  domain  of  productive  and 
social  labour;  and,  where  there  has  not  been  a  deter- 
mined and  conscious  resistance  on  her  part,  have 
nowhere  spontaneously  tended  to  open  out  to  her  new 
and  compensatory  fields.  .  .  .  Looking  around  with 
the  uttermost  impartiality  we  can  command,  on  the 
entire  field  of  woman's  ancient  and  traditional  la- 
bours, we  find  that  fully  three-fourths  of  it  have 
shrunk  away  forever,  and  that  the  remaining  fourth 
still  tends  to  shrink. 

"  It  is  this  great  fact,  so  often  and  so  completely 
overlooked,  which  lies  as  the  propelling  force  behind 
that  vast  and  restless  '  Woman's  Movement '  which 
marks  our  day.  It  is  this  fact,  whether  clearly  and 
intellectually  grasped,  or,  as  is  more  often  the  case, 
vaguely  and  painfully  felt,  which  awakes  in  the  hearts 
of  the  ablest  modern  European  women,  their  passion- 
ate, and  at  times  it  would  seem  almost  incoherent,  cry 
for  new  forms  of  labour  and  new  fields  for  the  exer- 
cise of  their  powers. 

*  Thrown  into  strict  logical  form,  our  demand  is 
this :  We  do  not  ask  that  the  wheels  of  time  should 
reverse  themselves,  or  the  stream  of  life  flow  back- 
ward. We  do  not  ask  that  our  ancient  spinning- 
wheels  be  again  resuscitated  and  placed  in  our  hands ; 
we  do  not  demand  that  our  old  grindstones  and  hoes 
be  returned  to  us,  or  that  man  should  again  betake 
himself  entirely  to  his  ancient  province  of  war  and 


THE  WORK-A-DAY  GIRL 

the  chase,  leaving  to  us  all  domestic  and  civil  labour. 
We  do  not  even  demand  that  society  shall  immediately 
so  reconstruct  itself  that  every  woman  may  be  again 
a  child-bearer  (deep  and  overmastering  as  lies  the 
hunger  for  motherhood  in  every  virile  woman's 
heart!);  neither  do  we  demand  that  the  children 
whom  we  bear  shall  again  be  put  exclusively  into  our 
hands  to  train.  This,  we  know,  cannot  be.  The 
past  material  conditions  of  life  have  gone  forever; 
no  will  of  man  can  recall  them.  But  this  is  our  de- 
mand: We  demand  that,  in  that  strange  new  world 
that  is  arising  alike  upon  the  man  and  the  woman, 
where  nothing  is  as  it  was,  and  all  things  are  assum- 
ing new  shapes  and  relations,  that  in  this  new  world 
we  also  shall  have  our  share  of  honoured  and  socially 
useful  human  toil,  our  full  half  of  the  labour  of  the 
Children  of  Woman.  We  demand  nothing  more 
than  this,  and  we  will  take  nothing  less.  This  is  our 
'  Woman's  Right! ' " 


XI 

THE  PRICE  OF  PROGRESS 

"TT'S  no  use  strugglin'  on,"  Fritz  Buehlow  had 
declared,  some  years  ago ;  "  things  ain't  never 
goin'  to  get  no  better  for  us.  You  can't  sell 
preservin'  kettles  an'  Mason  jars  to  women  that  buy 
all  their  fruit,  a  can  at  a  time  as  they  want  it.  And 
you  can't  sell  wash-boilers  an'  clothesracks  and 
wringers  to  women  that  send  all  their  washin'  out; 
nor  skillets  an'  saucepans  to  women  that  get  their 
meals  from  the  delicatessen's.  We  might's  well 
give  up." 

"  Well,  7  say  let's  give  up  tryin'  to  sell  what  no  one 
wants  to  buy,"  his  wife  agreed,  "  an'  start  sellin' 
something  everybody's  got  to  buy.  The  people 
'round  here  have  changed  a  lot  from  what  they  was 
when  we  come  here.  Flats  was  scarce,  then;  now 
it's  houses  that's  scarce.  Everybody  lives  in  few 
rooms;  and  you  see  how  'tis:  as  the  neighbourhood 
gets  thicker  an'  thicker,  the  flats  get  smaller  an' 
smaller — fewer  rooms  an5  littler.  More'n  half  these 
big  new  buildin's  are  four-room  flats,  an'  less;  I  see 
one  or  two  signs  out  sayin'  that  them  buildin's  have 
flats  of  two  an'  three  rooms.  Now,  you  know  's  well 
as  I  do,  how  much  housekeepin'  can  be  done  in  two 

263 


264  THE  WORK-A-DAY  GIRL 

an*  three  rooms!  All  you  got  to  do  is  look  around 
you,  an*  see  the  way  laundries  an*  dry-cleaners  an' 
bakeries  an*  delicatessens  flourish  an'  multiply.  Any 
amount  o'  the  women  around  here  work  for  their  liv- 
in's,  same  as  men  do.  They  make  their  good  money 
an'  hire  their  clothes  washed  an'  their  fruit  canned 
an'  their  suits  cleaned  an'  pressed  an'  their  bread 
baked. 

"  The  thing  for  you  an*  me  to  do,  Pa,  is  to  start 
sellin'  something  that  people  have  got  to  have.  Now, 
/  say  that  we  clear  out  this  store,  takin'  what  we  can 
get  for  the  old  stock,  an'  start  a  good  delicatessen. 
An'  I  say,  le't's  not  keep  just  the  kinds  o'  stuff  all  the 
others  keep.  I  say  let's  keep  some  things  that  you 
an'  me  could  imagine  hungry  folks  wantin'  to  eat 
when  they  come  home  from  a  day's  work." 

That  was  how  the  Buehlows  started  in  the  delica- 
tessen business.  Mrs.  Buehlow  had  a  strong  instinct 
for  the  value  of  appearance  in  the  salability  of  food. 
She  realized  that  people  were  getting  daily  more  de- 
manding as  to  the  looks  of  what  they  ate,  and  also  as 
to  the  way  it  was  handled;  she  it  was  who  insisted 
on  having  "  the  place  done  up  white,"  the  store-front 
painted,  the  inside  oil-finished  so  it  could  be  washed 
and  kept  spotless;  she  it  was  who  insisted  on  white 
enamel  paint  for  the  counters  and  shelves,  and  who 
went  to  other  lengths  of  extravagance  which 
Fritz  complained  their  small  savings  did  not  jus- 
tify. 


THE  PRICE  OF  PROGRESS  265 

"  When  we're  startin',  /  say  let's  start  right! "  she 
retorted — and  went  ahead  with  her  expenditures. 

She  was  speedily  justified  in  the  shop's  success. 
At  first  they  bought  a  major  part  of  all  they  sold, 
just  as  did  their  competitors — every  delicatessen 
dealer  buying  from  practically  the  same  line  of  "  spe- 
cialists," whose  supply  wagons  stopped  daily  at  his 
door.  Mrs.  Buehlow  was  "  feeling  her  way,"  learn- 
ing what  people  would  and  would  not  buy;  and  as 
fast  as  she  could,  she  was  substituting  the  readily 
salable  for  the  unsalable. 

"  This  here  baked  macaroni  we're  gettin'  is  like  a 
bunch  o'  rubber  hose,"  she  declared.  "  By  the  time 
people  take  it  home  an'  warm  it  up  in  an  oven,  the 
wonder  to  me  is  they  can  chew  it.  I  say  let's  not 
take  any  more  of  it.  I'll  cook  some  myself,  an'  fix 
it  in  little  pans,  all  creamy  inside  an'  nice  crumbs  on 
top,  an'  customers  can  put  it  in  the  oven  to  heat 
through  an'  have  a  Christian  dish." 

But  it  was  Mary — the  Buehlows'  only  daughter — 
who  laid  the  foundation  of  the  family  fortune. 

Mary  was  eighteen  at  that  time.  She  lived  with 
her  parents  and  her  two  younger  brothers,  in  the 
rooms  behind  the  store.  She  waited  on  customers, 
helped  her  mother  with  the  family  housework  and 
with  the  ever-increasing  manufacture  of  things  to 
sell  in  the  store.  She  was  alertly  intelligent,  and 
deeply  interested  in  the  new  business,  for  which  she 
had  an  aptitude  no  less  strong  than  her  mother's. 


266  THE  WORK-A-DAY  GIRL 

There  was  this  about  a  delicatessen  shop:  you 
couldn't  get  away  from  it;  it  had  to  be  opened  in 
the  morning  early  enough  to  meet  the  demands  of 
seven-o'clock  breakfasters,  and  it  had  to  be  kept  open 
till  nine  or  ten  in  the  evening,  and  Sunday  was  its 
busiest  day — Sunday  and  holidays.  But  there  were 
five  Buehlows;  they  all  waited  on  customers  in  the 
"  rush  "  times,  if  necessary,  and  they  took  turns  in 
sticking  to  the  job  evenings  and  Sundays  and  holi- 
days. And  no  one  felt  unduly  restricted.  The  com- 
ing and  going  of  the  various  supply  men,  each  day, 
brought  a  score  of  friendly  gossips  and  a  constant 
replenishment  of  conversational  topics  as  well  as  of 
smoked  meats  and  cream  cheeses.  The  customers 
were  nearly  all  "  regulars,"  and  many  of  them 
brought  bits  of  news  or  of  opinion  which  enlivened 
the  business  of  buying  and  selling.  The  life  was  a 
social  life  and  the  Buehlows  had  less  need  than  most 
folks  have  of  going  far  afield  from  either  home  or 
business  to  satisfy  the  craving  for  human  intercourse 
and  fresh  interests.  They  had  a  large  circle  of  com- 
mon acquaintances — common  to  them  all.  They  had 
an  unusual  number  of  common  'interests.  The 
source  of  the  family  income  was  as  clearly  understood 
by  young  Fritz  as  by  his  father,  by  Mary  and  her 
mother  as  by  any  of  the  group.  Georgie  knew  as 
well  as  his  pa  what  boiled  hams  ought  to  cost  per 
pound  and  what  they  ought  to  bring.  Young  Fritz, 
who  made  bicycle  deliveries,  brought  back  many 


THE  PRICE  OF  PROGRESS  267 

shrewd  reports  about  the  living  conditions  he 
glimpsed.  Mary  kept  her  eyes  open  wherever  she 
went,  to  note  what  other  delicatessen  shops  purveyed. 

And  it  was  Mary,  as  I  have  said,  who  laid  the  foun- 
dation of  the  family  fortune. 

Mary  went  out  to  supper  one  evening,  at  the  home 
of  a  girl  friend.  Baked  beans  were  served.  Mary 
had  never  eaten  any  so  good.  She  got  directions  for 
preparing  them  this  way,  and  without  delay  she 
"  tried  some  on  the  family." 

"  Those  pans  of  beans,  baked  hard  as  stones  on  top, 
that  we  get  from  Schmulzer,  aren't  fit  to  eat,"  Mary 
declared.  "  I'm  going  to  bake  a  big  earthen  crock 
of  these,  to-morrow — and  see  what  happens." 

What  happened  was  that  the  crockful  sold  "  in  no 
time,"  and  that  everybody  who  bought  those  beans 
wanted  more.  In  a  little  while,  people  were  passing 
other  delicatessen  stores  to  come  to  Buehlow's  for 
beans,  and  Mary  was  baking  three  and  four  big  crock- 
fuls  a  day,  instead  of  one — with  very  little  more 
work. 

One  day  the  driver  of  a  dairy  wagon  that  supplied 
the  Buehlow  store,  said  to  Mary : 

"  I  was  tellin'  one  of  our  delicatessen  customers 
about  your  baked  beans.  An'  he  says,  he's  so  far 
away  from  here  he  ain't  no  competitor  of  yours,  an' 
if  you  want  to  fix  him  one  of  them  crocks,  he'll  take 
it;  and  if  it  goes,  he'll  order  reg'lar." 

Mary  took  counsel  of  the  family,  and  no  one  could 


268  THE  WORK-A-DAY  GIRL 

see  any  objection  to  supplying  a  shop  in  another 
neighbourhood.  So  Mary  sent  the  distant  delicates- 
sener  a  crock ful  of  beans,  and  then  two  crocks,  and 
then  three.  And  soon  she  had  to  have  an  oven  built 
for  her.  There  was  "  money  in  beans."  There  was 
so  much  money  in  them  that  in  course  of  no  great 
while  the  Buehlows  began  to  be  a  "  bean  supply 
house,"  sending  their  product  all  over  the  city;  and 
presently  they  ceased  to  be  keepers  of  a  delicatessen 
shop;  and  as  time  went  on,  Fritz  Buehlow  became  a 
manufacturer,  and  Buehlow's  Beans  became  a  by-word 
— and  Mary  was  out  of  a  job! 

The  store  was  sold,  and  the  family  moved  into  a 
house — an  eight-room  house,  with  a  bathroom,  and  a 
good,  big  yard,  which  speedily  became  a  thriving  gar- 
den under  Mrs.  Buehlow's  loving  care. 

At  first  she  and  Mary  did  their  housework;  and 
the  three  menfolk  ran  the  business — the  elder  Bueh- 
low directing  manufacture  and  his  two  sons  do- 
ing the  buying  of  raw  product  and  the  selling  of  fin- 
ished product.  Occasionally,  Mary  went  over  to  the 
factory  and  made  suggestions  about  improving  the 
quality  of  the  beans;  but  her  father  and  brothers  did 
not  like  this.  They  felt  fully  capable  of  carrying  on 
the  business,  and  they  did  not  care  to  have  their 
employes  get  the  idea  that  the  business  owed  in  any 
way  its  origin  to  the  women  of  the  family  and  not 
to  the  men.  Besides,  they  said  there  was  enough  for 
Mary  to  do  at  home. 


THE  PRICE  OF  PROGRESS  269 

There  wasn't  enough!  Not  even  in  the  beginning 
of  the  new  home,  when  Mary  and  her  mother  did  all 
their  work  except  the  washing — omitting  the  latter 
not  because  they  felt  unequal  to  it  but  because  it 
would  have  "  looked  queer  "  in  their  new  neighbour- 
hood for  them  to  be  seen  in  their  back  yard  hanging 
out  their  clothes.  Mary  was  twenty-four,  now,  and 
splendidly  vigorous.  She  had  always  worked  hard 
and  always  enjoyed  it.  Of  course  she  got  tired,  at 
times;  of  course  there  were  occasions  when  she 
sighed  for  more  leisure;  but  on  the  whole,  she  was 
contentedly  busy  to  a  degree  which  almost  any  one 
might  well  envy.  Housework  didn't  give  her  enough 
to  do:  it  didn't  provide  half  enough  variety.  She 
missed  the  social  aspect  of  the  store.  She  missed  the 
stimulus  of  business.  She  missed  the  companion- 
ship of  her  menfolk,  who  left  home  early  in  the 
mornings,  now,  and  came  home  later  and  later  in  the 
evenings.  All  these  things  that  Mary  missed,  her 
mother  missed  also.  "  Progress  "  had  suddenly  de- 
prived them  of  a  great  deal  that  they  cherished  and 
enjoyed.  Very  shortly,  it  deprived  them  still  further. 

"  I  want  you  to  get  you  a  hired  girl,  Ma,"  Fritz 
Buehlow  said.  "  There  ain't  no  need  for  you  an' 
Mary  to  be  workin'  your  heads  off " 

"  But  we  ain't  workin'  'em  off,  Pa,"  Mrs.  Buehlow 
interposed.  "  Fact  is,  we  don't  have  enough  to  do." 

"  That's  because  you  stick  around  here  all  day  and 
have  no  ambition  about  you ! "  Georgie  complained. 


270  THE  WORK-A-DAY  GIRL 

"You  act  like  you  still  had  the  store.  What's  the 
use  of  getting  on,  if  you're  going  to  do  that  way? 
We  work  hard  all  day,  and  when  we  come  home  what 
do  we  find?  You  and  Mary  in  the  kitchen  cooking 
supper.  And  after  supper,  you  and  Mary  in  the 
kitchen  washing  dishes  or  setting  sponge  or  soaking 
the  clothes.  Then,  in  the  morning,  you  and  Mary 
in  the  kitchen  cooking  breakfast.  And  all  day  Sun- 
day, you  and  Mary  in  the  kitchen !  " 

Mrs.  Buehlow  looked  her  natural  astonishment. 

"  Why,  Georgie !  "  she  exclaimed.  "  What  would 
we  be  doin'?  What  you  want  we  should  do?" 

"  Get  a  hired  girl,"  he  answered.  "  Dress  your- 
selves up  nice;  go  out  somewheres  once  in  a  while; 
have  some  company  sometimes;  and  look  like  the 
family  was  getting  on!" 

Mrs.  Buehlow  hadn't  a  great  deal  of  patience  with 
this  demand,  until  Mary  explained  to  her:  the  men- 
folk had  made  a  lot  of  new  acquaintances  in  business; 
Georgie  and  Fritzie  had  met  some  nice  girls  and 
wanted  to  appear  well  in  these  girls'  eyes;  it  would 
be  a  great  pity  to  let  the  men  get  ashamed  of  their 
home  and  keep  all  their  social  as  well  as  their  busi- 
ness life  outside.  Mary  had  been  pleaded  with  by 
each  of  the  men  in  turn;  she  had  all  their  arguments 
by  heart;  she  could  not  help  seeing  that  they  had  a 
great  deal  of  right  on  their  side;  and,  too,  she  was 
more  willing  for  the  change  than  her  mother  was — 
not  because  she  wanted  to  work  less,  but  because  she 


THE  PRICE  OF  PROGRESS  271 

hoped  that  the  new  arrangement  would  enable  her 
to  work  more,  and  at  something  to  which  she  could 
give  a  quality  of  interest  like  to  that  she  had  given 
the  work  wrested  from  her  by  the  factory. 

So  a  servant  was  installed,  and  Mrs.  Buehlow  and 
Mary  set  about  the  tremendously  difficult  task  of  find- 
ing employment.  They  essayed  considerable  sewing. 
Mrs.  Buehlow  worked  her  garden  till  it  was  the  won- 
der of  the  neighbourhood.  Still  the  days  were  long 
and  too  scantily  filled.  The  menfolk  were  not  keen 
about  keeping  up  many  of  the  old  acquaintances  of 
store  days;  and  Mrs.  Buehlow  and  Mary  found  it 
difficult  to  establish  community  of  interests  with 
their  new  neighbours,  who  had,  for  the  most  part, 
been  much  more  gradually  accustomed  to  regard  as 
the  main  facts  of  life  those  things  which  the  Buehlow 
women  had  always  regarded  as  incidentals. 

Two  women  whose  wit  and  wisdom  and  untiring 
industry  have  contributed  so  much  to  lift  their  fam- 
ily out  of  failure  and  despair  into  success  and  confi- 
dence, cannot  easily  magnify  into  prime  importance 
the  length  of  their  jackets,  the  height  of  their  hat- 
crowns,  the  way  portieres  should  hang,  or  the  multi- 
plication of  doilies;  and  questions  of  infant  feeding 
and  child  rearing  could  not  enter  vitally  into  lives 
that  children  did  not  touch. 

Most  of  the  women  of  the  neighbourhood  suffered 
more  or  less  from  ennui,  although  nearly  all  of  them 
thought  they  had  too  much  to  do.  The  resort  of  the 


THE  WORK-A-DAY  GIRL 

majority  in  their  leisure  hours  was  cards — bridge 
whist  or  rhum  or  five  hundred. 

Mrs.  Buehlow  could  not  rouse  in  herself  the  slight- 
est interest  in  cards ;  but  Mary,  yielding  to  the  invita- 
tions of  her  brothers'  girl-friends,  joined  a  card-and- 
luncheon  club,  and  a  matinee  Dutch-treat  club. 

In  the  interests  of  these,  Mary  tried  to  develop  an 
absorption  in  collarless  blouses  and  grape  fruit  cock- 
tails and  Waldorf  salad  and  leading  men  and  "  tri- 
angle "  problems  and  "  finessing  "  and  the  simplifica- 
tion of  hair-dressing  styles.  But  the  effort  was 
abortive.  Nothing  really  interested  her  until  she  be- 
came, in  desperation,  a  member  of  a  Sunbeam  Society 
whose  pet  enterprise  was  the  maintenance  of  a  noon- 
day rest  and  cafeteria  lunchroom  for  working  girls. 

The  members  of  the  Society  took  turns  waiting  at 
the  food  counters,  the  steam-tables,  and  the  tea  and 
coffee  urns — thus  saving  wages  and  keeping  down 
the  price  of  food. 

At  once,  Mary  was  in  her  element  and  happy.  At 
once  she  came  into  a  position  of  command,  because 
she  was  in  a  field  where  she  knew — and  knowledge  is 
authority.  The  Sunbeam  cafeteria  absorbed  her,  and 
it  rewarded  her:  it  developed  and  flourished  under 
her  direction  until  it  gave  her  a  sense  of  elation  in 
her  usefulness — the  most  satisfying  sense  that  any 
soul  can  ever  have. 

But  Mr.  Buehlow  was  ill-pleased  when  he  heard 
that  Mary  was  working  so  hard  in  a  cafeteria,  "  wait- 


THE  PRICE  OF  PROGRESS 

ing  on  a  lot  of  shop-girls."  He  couldn't  understand 
such  behaviour.  "  There's  some  people  you  just  can't 
raise  up  or  do  nothing  with!  "  he  complained,  bitterly. 
"  My  goodness !  Here  I  am,  anxious  for  Mary  to 
enjoy  herself  and  go  around  among  nice  people. 
And  what  does  she  do?  Spends  her  time  waitin'  in 
a  cheap  restaurant !  " 

"  But,  Pa !  "  his  wife  pleaded,  "  the  other  girls  that 
go  there  and  wait  are  fine  girls.  They  don't  have  to 
go,  neither;  they're  society  girls;  they're  richer  and 
sweller'n  what  our  Mary  is.  Doin'  things  like  that 
is  a  kind  of  craze  with  rich  girls  now,  it  seems.  And 
you  can't  blame  'em!  Maybe  the  poor  girls  don't 
need  their  clubs  an'  things;  but  I  bet  the  rich  girls 
need  to  have  'em!  'Tain't  natural  for  any  human 
bein'  to  be  no  use  to  any  one  alive." 

"  Mary  should  be  thinkin'  of  gettin'  married,"  her 
father  declared.  "  She's  twenty-five.  First  thing 
she  knows,  she  won't  get  any  one  to  have  her." 

"  Don't  seem  like  she's  ever  seen  any  one  she  fan- 
cied," her  mother  answered.  She,  too,  felt  that  Mary 
ought  to  be  thinking  of  getting  married. 

"  How  can  she  see  anybody  she  might  '  fancy,' 
dishin'  up  hash  to  a  lot  of  shop-girls?  You  talk  to 
Mary  and  make  her  see  she  should  be  marrying ! " 

Mrs.  Buehlow  "talked  to  Mary";  and  Mary  re- 
plied that  she  hadn't  seen  any  one  she  wanted  to 
marry.  But  it  was  evident  that  Mary  had  not 
"  looked  very  hard." 


THE  WORK-A-DAY  GIRL 

Her  father  had — it  seemed.  He  knew  a  young 
man  he  thought  would  do  very  well  for  Mary.  He 
asked  him  to  the  house.  The  young  man  was  not 
ill-pleased  with  Mary,  and  he  came  quite  frequently; 
he  invited  her  to  the  theatre;  he  sent  her  candy  and 
flowers.  Eventually  he  asked  Mary  to  marry  him; 
and  Mary  said  No.  She  had  accepted  his  courtesies 
because  he  was  her  father's  friend;  but  her  sense  of 
obligation  to  her  father  did  not  lead  her  so  far  as  to 
marry  his  friend;  and  she  defied  the  friend  to  say 
that  she  had  ever  given  him  any  encouragement  to 
believe  that  she  would  marry  him.  No;  she  hadn't! 
But  her  father  had !  Then  her  father  was  exceeding 
his  authority! 

"  Father "  was  incensed.  "  What's  the  matter 
with  him?"  he  demanded  of  Mary.  "What's  the 
matter  with  you?" 

"  Nothing's  the  matter  with  him  that  I  know  of," 
Mary  replied;  "but  I  don't  love  him;  he  doesn't  in- 
terest me;  I  won't  marry  him." 

"  This's  what  comes  of  running  around,  picking  up 
crazy  notions !  "  her  father  raged. 

"  Well,"  Mary  reminded  him,  "  I  wanted  to  work, 
and  you  wouldn't  let  me.  I  wanted  to  keep  on  look- 
ing after  my  beans — but  you  took  them  away  from 
me.  I  had  to  do  something!" 

"  What  you  should  have  been  doing  was  to  see  how 
you  could  get  you  a  good  husband  and  a  nice  home. 
What  do  you  think  is  going  to  become  of  you?  Are 


THE  PRICE  OF  PROGRESS  275 

you  forever  going  to  dish  up  hash  and  live  off 
me?" 

Mary  flushed.  "  I  don't  need  to  live  off  you !  "  she 
retorted.  "  I'll  be  glad  enough  to  go  to  work  and 
earn  my  own  living.  And  I'll  certainly  do  it  before 
I'll  think  of  marrying  a  man  I  care  nothing  about." 

"  I  don't  want  you  earning  your  own  living,"  her 
father  cried.  "  How  would  that  look  for  me?  As 
if  I  couldn't  afford  to  keep  you!  I  won't  have  it! 
And  I  won't  have  you  fooling  all  your  time  away 
with  hash,  neither.  This  funny  business  has  got  to 
stop.  I'm  willing  to  work  for  you,  but  you  got  to 
have  some  consideration  for  me." 

But  Mary  steadfastly  refused  to  be  separated  from 
what  her  father  called  "  the  hash."  She  clung  to  it 
desperately,  as  she  might  well  cling  to  the  one  thing 
that  furnished  opportunity  for  usefulness.  She 
wasn't  needed,  now,  in  the  family  business ;  she  wasn't 
needed  in  the  home;  and  she  couldn't  bring  herself  to 
marry  in  the  hope  of  creating  an  occupation,  an  in- 
terest ;  because  her  observation  did  not  encourage  her 
to  believe  that  she  could  be  satisfied  with  the  kind  of 
life  most  young  matrons  lived. 

So  she  threw  herself  unreservedly  into  the  work 
of  the  Sunbeam  Society,  not  only  into  the  cafeteria 
part  of  it  but  into  other  things  which  developed  out 
of  that.  And  she  bore  as  best  she  could  the  thick- 
ening cloud  of  displeasure  under  which  she  lived  at 
home — at  least  in  so  far  as  her  father  was  concerned. 


276  THE  WORK-A-DAY  GIRL 

The  thing  that  hurt  worst  was  that  her  mother  was 
made  unhappy  by  these  strained  relations. 

There  were  times  when  it  seemed  to  Mary  that 
nothing  could  possibly  justify  her  for  refusing  to  fol- 
low meekly  any  path  in  life  that  might  be  laid  out 
for  her  as  helpful  to  the  family  reputation  and  con- 
ducive to  family  peace.  Apparently,  women  were 
but  pawns  in  the  game  of  life :  they  could  "  take  " 
nothing;  they  were  for  the  service  of  their  superiors 
in  whatever  way  that  sendee  was  demanded.  When 
a  father  is  poor,  his  daughter  is  his  to  work  for  him; 
when  he's  well-to-do,  she  is  his  to  advertise  his  suc- 
cess by  her  idleness;  in  either  case,  it  is  her  duty  to 
marry  for  the  advantage  of  the  family,  if  she  can, 
and  thereafter  to  further  the  advantage  of  a  new 
family  at  whatever  cost  to  her  own  desires. 

Then,  again,  she  passionately  protested  against 
such  submission;  she  felt  that  women  had  a  right  to 
be  something  besides  daughters  and  wives  and 
mothers,  just  as  men  have  the  unchallenged  right  to 
be  something  besides  sons  and  husbands  and  fathers; 
she  saw  that  many  women  must  needs  be  something 
instead  of  wives  and  mothers,  and  that  the  tendency 
of  modern  life  is  to  increase  rather  than  to  decrease 
the  proportion  of  these.  She  learned  why  a  great 
many  women  of  to-day  who  might  marry,  do  not 
marry.  She  learned  why  a  great  many  women  are 
miserably  childless.  She  said  little  or  nothing  to  her 
father  about  these  things,  but  her  ideas  percolated  to 


THE  PRICE  OF  PROGRESS  277 

him  through  her  mother.  Mr.  Buehlow  considered 
it  shocking,  disgusting,  for  a  woman  to  know  any- 
thing about  social  purity  or  impurity;  and  outrageous 
for  her  to  argue  her  right  to  work,  to  struggle,  to  be 
a  useful,  self-sustaining  creature  first,  and  after  that, 
if  possible,  a  wife  and  mother. 

Mary  did  all  she  could  to  preserve  family  peace; 
but  her  father  made  her  feel  his  displeasure.  When 
he  gave  her  any  money,  he  stipulated  that  none  of  it 
was  to  go  to  "  your  hash-house."  He  missed  no 
slightest  opportunity  to  revile  persons  whom  he  sus- 
pected Mary  of  admiring,  nor  to  extol  persons  whom 
he  suspected  Mary  of  despising. 

It  was  a  well-nigh  intolerable  situation.  Mary  en- 
dured it  for  her  mother's  sake,  as  long  as  she  could. 
Then  she  got  out.  She  got  herself  a  job  as  assistant- 
manager  of  a  big  lunchroom;  and  she  and  a  compan- 
ionable girl  friend  rented  a  three-room  and  kitchen- 
ette apartment  where  they  might  "  live  in  peace,  ac- 
cording to  their  lights  " — and  to  their  earning  powers. 

This  raised  a  tremendous  storm  in  the  Buehlow 
home. 

"  What  right  have  you  to  disgrace  us  ? "  Mary's 
father  demanded  of  her. 

"Why  am  I  disgracing  you?"  Mary  asked. 
"  What  am  I  doing  that  is  wrong?  " 

"  The  place  for  a  decent  girl  is  in  her  father's 
home!"  he  thundered.  "When  she  can't  live  there 
no  longer,  it's  a  sign  she's  not  decent ! " 


278  THE  WORK-A-DAY  GIRL 

"  It's  a  sign  of  nothing  of  the  sort !  "  she  retorted. 
"  You  have  been  very  anxious  for  me  to  have  a  home 
of  my  own.  Why  is  it  decent  to  leave  your  home 
and  be  supported  by  a  husband,  and  indecent  to  leave 
it  and  support  a  home  of  my  own  ?  " 

Mr.  Buehlow's  answer  to  this  was  purely  selfish: 
in  leaving  his  home  to  make  one  of  her  own,  Mary 
reflected  on  his  ability  to  maintain  her,  or  else  on 
his  endurableness  as  a  father  and  provider.  He  re- 
sented her  doing  this;  he  resented  her  having  power 
to  do  it;  he  resented  her  desertion,  as  he  called  it,  of 
her  mother — although  he  would  have  heaped  approval 
on  her  desertion  by  marriage,  even  though  the  bride- 
groom might  live  in  Cape  Town;  whereas  her  own  little 
apartment  was  not  a  mile  away. 

But  there  were,  Mary  found,  other  objectors.  The 
social  code  is  still  rather  undiscriminatingly  set 
against  young  women  keeping  house  within  a  mile  of 
their  parents'  homes.  If  girls  who  cannot  live  at 
home  go  to  distant  cities,  no  scandal  is  created  by 
their  setting  up  their  lares  and  penates  in  an  abode 
of  their  own;  their  desire  to  create  an  atmosphere 
favourable  to  their  best  development,  is  respected,  even 
reverenced.  But  the  new  home,  husbandless,  close 
under  the  shadow  of  the  parental  roof,  is  looked  upon 
askance.  It  is  not  much  more  easily  condoned  in  the 
case  of  a  man.  People  seem  to  feel  an  instinctive 
doubtfulness  of  either  son  or  daughter  who  cannot 
come  to  some  tolerable  arrangement  in  the  parental 


THE  PRICE  OF  PROGRESS  279 

home.  The  parents  may  be  intolerable;  but  they  are 
(unless  known  to  be  unendurable)  sure  to  get  the 
benefit  of  the  doubt,  and  quite  likely  to  deserve  it. 
Society  recognizes,  now,  that  the  house  was  never 
built  which  was  large  enough  for  two  families;  it 
concedes  the  self-preserving  wisdom  of  young  cou- 
ples who  leave  the  most  spacious  of  homes  echoing 
to  the  slow  foot-falls  of  the  middle-aged  and  aging, 
and  crowd  themselves  into  the  tiniest  "  ownest  own  " 
nests  in  cottage  or  apartment.  But  that  concession 
(which  probably  rocked  tribal  and  patriarchal  and 
feudal  society  to  its  foundations,  before  it  was  made) 
is  demanded  because  the  new  family  is  compounded 
of  equal  parts  of  two  older  families,  neither  of  which 
parts  (in  the  interests  of  peace  and  progress)  should 
be  required  to  conform  absolutely  to  the  rules,  the 
traditions,  and  customs  of  either  of  the  old-estab- 
lished households;  the  interests  of  the  race  demand 
constant  new  beginnings.  But  a  son  or  a  daughter 
going  forth  alone  (unless  to  a  distant  city)  seems  to 
the  present  point  of  view  to  be  disrupting  a  family 
without  making  recompense  to  society  in  the  promise 
of  .a  new  family;  and  society  does  not  take  kindly  to 
this  idea.  Perhaps  it  will  come — and  with  less  strain 
than  was  entailed  by  the  breaking  up  of  patriarchal 
households.  But  at  present,  the  young  woman  who 
separates  herself  from  her  parents'  home,  to  live  as  a 
"  bachelor  maid  "  in  the  same  city,  must  do  so  at  con- 
siderable cost  of  disesteem;  must  face  the  conse- 


280  THE  WORK-A-DAY  GIRL 

quences  of  that  popular  judgment  which  will  suppose 
her  to  have  left  her  home  because  she  demanded  a 
freedom  beyond  what  her  parents  could  countenance, 
and  must  bear  with  the  attitude  that  is  always  seeking 
to  see  what  orgies  she  will  be  guilty  of,  now  that  she 
has  "  bust  loose." 

Mary  encountered  all  of  this.  She  found  people 
in  general  no  more  inclined  to  look  favouringly  on  her 
desire  for  independence  than  her  father  had  looked. 
She  found  that  something  in  the  manner  of  many  per- 
sons, which  suggested  (often  none  too  delicately) 
that  her  idea  in  leaving  home  had  been  to  get  away 
from  censorship;  that  what  she  wanted  was  liberty 
to  smoke  cigarettes  and  drink  highballs  and  go  "  slum- 
ming " — perhaps  to  "  have  affairs." 

"  All  I  ask  is  leave  to  work;  to  earn  my  own  bread 
and  butter;  to  be  beholden  to  no  one;  to  maintain 
my  own  ideals.  Yet  people  act  as  if  they  were 
always  expecting  me  to  do  something  outrageous !  " 

Doubtless  she  could  have  lived  this  unjust  but  not 
unnatural  suspicion  down.  Perhaps,  but  for  her 
mother,  she  would  have  tried  to  do  so.  But  what 
with  her  mother's  sorrow,  and  with  the  general  lack 
of  sympathy,  she  gave  up  her  little  flat  and  went  back 
home.  But  she  kept  her  position.  And  when  she 
returned  to  her  father's  roof,  she  insisted  on  paying 
her  board,  just  as  her  brothers  did. 

In  one  highly  important  particular,  Mary's  situa- 
tion as  a  bread-winning  daughter  living  at  home, 


THE  PRICE  OF  PROGRESS  281 

lacked  an  element  of  difficulty  which  most  working 
women  who  live  at  home  have  to  face :  the  disposition 
of  her  wages.  More  than  four-fifths  of  the  daugh- 
ters who  work,  it  is  estimated,  turn  over  to  their 
parents  (usually  to  their  mothers)  all  their  earnings. 
Sons  seldom  do  this  after  the  first  two  or  three  years 
of  wage-earning — after  that  they  usually  "  pay 
board,"  clothe  themselves,  and  begin  (supposedly)  to 
lay  the  foundations  of  their  futures  by  saving  and 
investing. 

"  I  believe/'  writes  Cicely  Hamilton,  "  that  in  all 
ranks  of  society  there  is  a  pronounced  disposition  on 
the  part  of  the  family  to  regard  the  income,  earned  or 
unearned,  of  its  female  members  as  something  in  the 
nature  of  common  property — the  income  of  its  male 
members  as  much  more  of  an  individual  posses- 


sion.'* 


This  was  far  less  true  of  Mary  Buehlow  than  it  is 
of  most  women  workers,  because  the  family  income 
was  so  easily  adequate  to  its  scale  of  living.  There 
was  no  pressure  which  Mary's  earnings  were  needed 
to  relieve.  But  this  was  true :  Mary  felt  her  mother's 
want  of  money  (in  the  old  days  of  the  shop,  the 
mother  had  been  not  only  her  husband's  partner,  but 
the  financier  of  the  firm,  of  the  family;  now  she  was 
a  dependent:  her  household  bills  were  paid;  her  cloth- 
ing was  paid  for;  but  she  had  no  income  that  she 
could  feel  was  hers  to  spend  as  she  chose)  and  sup- 
plied it,  gladly,  to  save  her  mother  the  shame  of  beg- 


THE  WORK-A-DAY  GIRL 

ging.  And  when  the  servant  was  ill,  or  the  family 
was  temporarily  servantless,  it  was  Mary  who,  after 
her  own  day's  work  downtown,  came  home  and 
helped  her  mother;  her  father  and  brothers  whose 
work  she  and  her  mother  had  joyfully  shared  for  so 
long,  showed  not  the  slightest  disposition  to  share 
in  that  part  of  the  work  of  the  family  which  they 
considered  the  business  of  the  women. 

That  Mary,  whose  earnings  were  not  considerable, 
was  taking  from  what  she  might  have  saved,  to  sup- 
ply her  mother's  perfectly  legitimate  desires,  did  not 
disturb  any  of  the  Buehlow  men.  They  were  not 
consciously  mean,  but  it  did  not  occur  to  them  that 
Mary  might  be  eager  to  save  her  money  and  go  into 
business  for  herself;  they  simply  couldn't  get  used  to 
the  idea  that  she  was  trying  to  establish  herself  in 
life  and  to  insure  her  future — and  not  working  to 
gratify  some  whim,  escape  from  some  "  peculiar " 
restlessness.  Nor  were  they  deliberate  in  their  atti- 
tude as  they  sat  at  ease  (in  those  servantless  intervals 
which  are  frequent  in  most  households,  these  days, 
whatever  their  ability  to  pay  for  service)  and  allowed 
Mary  to  come  in  from  a  hard  day's  work  and  go  into 
the  kitchen  to  relieve  her  mother.  Yet,  if  asked, 
these  menfolk  would  have  declared  unhesitatingly 
that  one  of  the  reasons  why  women  are  unfitted  to 
compete  with  men  is  because  women  are  physically 
the  weaker  and  inferior  vessels. 

Once  when  Mary  said  something  about  this,  her 


THE  PRICE  OF  PROGRESS  283 

father  reminded  her  that  she  did  not  "  have  to  work  " ; 
that  helping  her  mother  was  her  "  business  " ;  and 
that  if  she  tired  herself  out  doing  other  things,  that 
was  her  "  own  funeral." 

"  Is  it  necessary  for  Georgie  and  Fritzie  to  work  ?  " 
she  asked. 

"  Sure  it's  necessary." 

"  Couldn't  you  afford  to  support  them  if  they  didn't 
work?" 

"I  could  afford  to;  but  I  wouldn't  "do  it.  What 
kind  of  idiots  would  they  grow  up  to  be — living  off 
me  and  doing  nothing  for  their  board  but  eat  it?  A 
man's  got  to  work  or  he  don't  have  no  self-respect, 
nor  no  respect  from  other  men." 

"  That's  what  I  thought,"  Mary  answered,  quietly, 
"  because  those  are  the  same  reasons  why  a  woman 
has  got  to  work." 

"  But  a  woman  should  work  in  her  house — for  her 
family,"  her  father  declared.  "  I  raised  you  up,  a 
good  many  years.  You  owe  me  something! " 

"  I  owe  you  a  great  deal,"  Mary  granted  him. 
"  And  I  owe  Ma  a  great  deal  more — more  than  I  can 
ever  pay  back.  But  I  thought  that  parents  kind  of 
passed  the  debt  on :  '  You  can't  pay  me  for  all  you 
cost  me;  but  you  must  pay  it  to  your  children,  or  to 
posterity.'  I  can't  pay  you  for  giving  me  life — I 
thought  maybe  the  happiness  of  being  a  parent  was 
your  compensation  for  that.  But  as  for  my  keep! 
I've  worked  for  it  ever  since  I  can  remember;  and 


284  THE  WORK-A-DAY  GIRL 

it  strikes  me  that  I  had  something  to  do  with  found- 
ing the  fortunes  of  us  all! " 

Her  father  stared  at  her  with  bewilderment.  Mary 
was  startlingly  incomprehensible  to  him,  and  he  felt 
sure  that  she  was  hurrying  to  some  sort  of  horrible 
self-destruction. 

"  I  can't  think  where  you  got  such  ideas,"  he  la- 
mented. "  In  my  young  days,  if  a  girl  talked  that 
way  I  don't  know  what  would  have  happened." 

Mary  abandoned  hope  of  making  him  understand. 
She  went  on  her  course,  feeling  her  way  as  best  she 
could,  without  chart  or  compass.  Almost  every 
problem  she  encountered  was  one  which  she  had  to 
face  alone  and  without  the  help  of  rule,  precedent,  or 
other  woman's  experience.  Nothing  in  the  history 
of  humanity  has  in  any  way  foreshadowed  this  world- 
shaking  movement  now  going  on  in  the  scattered 
ranks  of  womankind.  Few  of  the  "  restless  "  women 
themselves  are  aware  of  the  causes  of  their  restless- 
ness. Few  men  are  able  to  realize  the  inevitableness 
of  this  that  has  now  "  in  the  fulness  of  time  "  come 
to  pass. 

It  was  woman  who,  when  she  suffered  unendurably 
in  her  children's  hunger,  and  the  hunter  came  not 
home  from  the  chase,  discovered  earth-products  that 
could  be  made  to  sustain  life — and,  groping  her  way, 
became  an  agriculturist.  It  was  man  who,  when 
woman  had  taught  him  how  much  of  the  necessary 


THE  PRICE  OF  PROGRESS  285 

sustenance  may  be  planted  and  reaped,  and  how  wild 
animals  may  be  tamed  and  made  man's  servants, 
turned  agriculturist  and  drove  his  mate  from  the  posi- 
tion of  pioneer  and  commander  to  that  of  follower 
and  helper,  and  finally  freed  her  from  field  toil  so 
that  she  began  exercising  her  ingenuity  in  the  utiliza- 
tion of  field  products.  It  was  she  who  began  all 
manufactures,  and  he  who  took  them  from  her  one 
by  one.  This  he  did  because  he  needed  the  work. 
And  each  time  he  left  to  her  to  devise  other  kinds  of 
useful  labour  wherewith  to  busy  herself  and,  in  time, 
to  provide  him  with  more  varieties  of  productive  toil. 
At  no  time  in  all  this,  probably,  did  men  act  with  con- 
scious selfishness,  or  women  yield  with  conscious  re- 
luctance. Those  who  can  create  have  their  greatest 
joy  in  creating.  Woman's  ingenuity  was  being  de- 
veloped ;  it  was  constantly,  as  changing  economic  con- 
ditions required,  finding  new  exercise,  and  enjoying, 
doubtless,  the  exquisite  happiness  of  being  adequate 
to  the  demands  encountered.  But,  "  as  woman's  old 
fields  of  labour  have  slipped  from  her,  she  must  either 
grasp  new,  or  must  become  wholly  dependent  on  her 
sexual  function  alone,  all  other  elements  of  human 
nature  in  her  becoming  atrophied  and  arrested 
through  lack  of  exercise." 

Women  who  fail  to  grasp,  or  to  create,  new  fields 
of  labour,  and  who  sit  unresistingly  in  their  gleaned 
corners,  are  hastening  the  decay  of  their  class  or  kind. 
Women  who  refuse  to  be  inactive,  unproductive,  are 


286  THE  WORK-A-DAY  GIRL 

sustaining  the  best  ideals  of  their  sex  and  continuing 
to  raise  the  status  of  the  race. 

But  because  most  of  us  are  so  utterly  ignorant  of 
the  industrial  and  economic  history  of  humanity  (is 
it  conceivable  that  the  history  of  toil  should  never  be 
taught  except  in  college  and  university?  that  the 
world's  toilers  should  never  be  given  a  glimpse  of  the 
way  over  which  they  have  come,  nor  of  the  goal 
toward  which  they  press?)  we  are  confused  and  dis- 
tracted by  the  movement  of  our  times,  and  misread 
the  signs  of  vitality  for  threats  of  destruction,  the 
signs  of  decay  for  pledges  of  security. 

Millions  of  women  to-day,  most  of  them  young, 
are  struggling  more  or  less  desperately  with  a  vague 
sense  of  mislike  for  the  conditions  of  life  as  they  in- 
herit it.  The  mightiest  instinct  of  youth  (if  not  of 
all  life)  is  self-preservation;  and  in  blind  obedience 
to  this  they  are  fighting  for  the  right  to  perform  such 
a  share  of  the  world's  work  as  shall  sustain  them  in 
self-respect,  develop  their  powers,  and  bless  them  with 
that  highest  happiness,  the  sense  of  usefulness. 

Not  many  men  or  women  are  giving  these  valiant 
race-preserving  strugglers  sympathy  or  help.  Some 
are  exploiting  them — overworking  them,  underpaying 
them,  and  consigning  vast  numbers  of  them  to  the 
human  scrap-heap.  Some  are  selfishly  or  stupidly 
opposing  them. 

Woman's  movement  to  reclaim  not  all  of  what  was 
once  her  foremothers'  but  only  a  share  in  it,  to  adjust 


THE  PRICE  OF  PROGRESS  287 

herself  to  new  conditions  of  labour  and  of  social  status, 
is  so  tremendous  that  we  may  be  pardoned  if  we  are 
awestruck  by  it,  and  so  unparalleled  that  we  may  be 
excused  for  ignorance  as  to  what  we  ought  to  do. 
But  we  can  at  least  have  sympathy — and  out  of  sym- 
pathy grows  understanding.  Every  one  of  us  has 
daily  contact  with  some  of  the  struggling  millions, 
and  our  respect  is  due  to  all — to  the  women  whom 
the  bread  of  idleness  fails  to  feed,  as  well  as  to  the 
women  who  must  work  if  they  would  eat,  and  who 
are  seeking  work  and  wages  where  they  can  find  them. 

Every  one  of  us,  every  day,  is  making  life  on  terms 
of  self-respect  either  harder  or  easier  for  more  than 
one  of  these  millions  of  women. 

The  world  is  waking  up  to  the  needs  of  its  women. 
Here,  there,  and  everywhere,  movements  are  on  foot 
seeking  to  solve  their  problems.  Most  of  these  move- 
ments look  toward  legislation,  to  stop  exploitation, 
to  fix  the  legal  rights  of  women,  and  so  on.  And 
legislation  will  come  as  fast  as  public  opinion  demands 
it;  just  and  protective  laws  will  be  worth  just  as  much 
as  the  public  opinion  back  of  them  that  demands 
their  enforcement. 

If  you  think  that  the  girl  in  the  mill  is  there  be- 
cause she  "  doesn't  like  housework,"  or  that  the  girl 
in  the  shop  is  there  to  earn  a  new  feather,  or  that 
the  girl  in  the  office  is  there  because  she  likes  to  work 
among  men,  you  are  little  likely  to  give  any  sympathy 
to  movements  endeavouring  to  better  her  working- 


THE  WORK-A-DAY  GIRL 

condition,  safeguard  her  leisure,  or  increase  her  pay. 
But  if  you  know  why  she  is  a  worker;  if  you  know 
that  not  all  the  powers  of  all  the  earth  could  (even  if 
they  should!)  re-create  for  her  conditions  as  they 
were;  if  you  feel  the  value  to  the  race  of  the  woman 
who  struggles  and  endures  to  keep  woman's  hold  on 
industry,  your  contribution  to  the  public  opinion 
which  fetters  or  frees  her,  will  be  different — will  it 
not? 


HER  FATHER'S  ASSISTANT. 

This  fifteen-year-old  girl  is  her  father's  assistant.  She  began 
learning  to  cobble  when  five.  When  ten,  she  begged  to  be  taught 
the  trade.  Father  and  daughter  work  side  by  side.  When  her 
father  becomes  incapacitated  she  can  continue  the  business. 


XII 
"  THE  WOMAN  OF  IT  " 

I 

THE  kindly  neighbours  couldn't  understand 
Sarah's  willingness — nay,  her  evident  pref- 
erence— to  stay  alone. 

"  Sure  you  don't  want  to  come  over  an'  sleep  with 
Minnie  to-night  ?  "  Mrs.  Joe  Darch  insisted.  "  Or 
have  me  or  Minnie  stay  here  with  you?" 

"  Sure !  "  Sarah  answered,  grateful  for  the  kind- 
ness shown  her,  but  not  dissuaded  by  it. 

So  they  left  her.  And  for  a  while  she  sat  on  her 
doorstep,  in  the  April  gloaming;  a  lone-looking  crea- 
ture in  sooth,  framed  against  the  shadowy  interior  of 
a  cabin  no  emptier  (actually)  than  it  had  been  a 
thousand  times  before  when  she  sat  there  likewise, 
but  awesomely  empty  in  feeling,  now,  because  of  one 
who  would  never  return.  His  blackened  pipe  was 
above  the  fireplace.  His  wide-brimmed  hat  hung  on 
its  peg  on  the  door.  But  he  was  lying  out  yonder, 
in  the  bleak  little  burial  patch,  his  sandy  grave  unre- 
deemed from  its  full  dread  fulness  by  so  much  as  a 
single  flower. 

Times  without  number  had  Sarah  sat  here,  gazing 

289 


290  THE  WORK-A-DAY  GIRL 

into  that  area  of  space — now  near,  now  far — where 
visions  form  and  flit.  She  was  used  to  being  lonely; 
she  couldn't  remember  ever  having  been  other  than 
lonely.  Occasionally,  in  those  countless  other  times, 
Sarah's  thoughts  had  been  reminiscent,  the  things  she 
visioned  were  back  in  the  way  she  had  come ;  but  far 
oftener  she  had  dreamed  of  a  possible  future,  when 
life  might  wear  a  glory  or  at  least  disclose  a  meaning. 
The  existence  she  had,  seemed  to  lead  nowhither;  but 
Sarah  was  young,  and  she  could  not  but  believe  that 
some  day,  by  some  miracle,  or  by  some  energy  of  her 
own,  the  purposelessness  would  fall  away  and  she 
would  glimpse  her  destiny. 

Always,  hitherto,  her  hope  of  the  future  had  sus- 
tained her  in  her  empty  present  and  comforted  her 
for  her  bitter  past.  But  to-night  she  was  afraid  of 
the  future.  She  knew  that  her  life  must  make  a 
fresh  beginning;  but  she  could  see  no  paths.  Her 
thoughts  were  busier  with  the  past  than  with  that 
long-looked-for  change  which  was  now  imminent. 

Sarah's  grief  for  her  father  was  not  such  grief  as 
shakes  the  soul;  nor  even  such  as  bruises  the  heart. 
She  was  full  of  a  profound  pity  for  her  father,  be- 
cause she  realized  that  he  had  failed  of  happiness,  he 
had  failed  of  any  victory  in  life  that  might  have 
reconciled  him  to  the  toil  and  hardship  of  living.  It 
seemed  to  her  as  if  he  must  still  have  been  hoping, 
expecting — as  she  was — and  that  before  anything 
came  to  redeem  life,  he  had  to  go,  into  that  harsh, 


"  THE  WOMAN  OF  IT  "  291 

sandy  grave  on  the  outskirts  of  the  mining  camp. 
The  piteousness  of  it  kept  her  tears  falling.  She 
could  not  realize  that,  in  weariness  of  spirit  or  in 
mortal  weakness  of  flesh,  he  might  have  been,  as  the 
Door  swung  outward,  willing  to  pass  through.  It 
was  for  him,  more  than  for  herself  bereft  of  him, 
that  she  wept.  If  he  could  have  gone  out  of  her  life 
in  any  other  wise,  Sarah  would  have  missed  and  re- 
gretted him  really  very  little.  He  was  never,  in  life, 
an  endearing  person.  It  was  the  coming  of  the  In- 
exorable that  invested  him  for  the  first  time  with 
an  appeal  to  the  heart — the  appeal  of  helplessness. 

Sarah  had  only  vague  recollections  of  him  in  her 
childhood;  of  the  disquietude  he  seemed  always  to 
bring  into  their  poor  little  home.  She  remembered 
him  only  as  a  hard  drinker ;  as  one  who  was  bitterly  at 
odds  with  the  world;  as  one  who  frequently  made 
her  mother  cry,  and  who — when  the  discomfort  of 
his  creating  grew  too  great  for  him — went  away,  in 
one  of  his  sullen  fits,  and  left  them  (her  mother  and 
herself)  penniless.  She  could  recall  something  of 
her  mother's  desperate  struggle.  And  then,  in  the 
short  interval  before  she  was  put  in  a  good  school, 
the  child  had  sensed  a  mystifying  change:  her 
mother  had  cried  more  than  ever,  though  they  had 
plenty  to  eat  and  to  wear;  and  a  great  many  times 
when  Sarah  thought — waking  with  a  start  in  the  night 
— that  her  father  had  come  back,  she  was  told  that  the 
stranger  was  "  Mamma's  brother,"  and  that  he  had 


THE  WORK-A-DAY  GIRL 

left  money  to  buy  little  Sarah  some  new  shoes.  Then 
Sarah  was  sent  to  the  school.  Once  in  a  great 
while  her  mother  came  to  see  her.  At  first,  the 
teachers  and  the  principal  were  kind  to  Sarah's 
mother,  and  acted  glad  when  she  came.  But  by  and 
by  they  were  much  less  kind  to  her,  and  she  came 
much  less  often.  And  one  day,  Sarah's  father  ar- 
rived and  took  her  away.  Sarah  did  not  know,  then, 
but  she  knew,  now,  that  the  Law  had  allowed  him 
to  do  this,  because  he  was  her  father  and  had  an 
indisputable  right  to  her  if  he  wanted  her.  It  was 
an  additional  argument  that  her  mother  was  unfit; 
but  he  needed  no  additional  argument,  then.  Nor 
was  he  held  in  anywise  responsible  for  having  left 
Sarah's  mother  to  become  "  unfit." 

He  took  Sarah  to  the  mining  camp.  She  was  only 
twelve,  and  the  principal  pleaded  for  more  schooling 
for  her.  But  Jerry  Blooclgood  had  no  money  to  pay 
for  schooling,  and  he  said  Sarah  had  more  than  she 
would  ever  need,  now.  When  the  lady  principal 
asked  him,  apprehensively,  if  a  camp  was  a  good 
place  for  a  girl  of  twelve  with  no  woman  to  look 
after  her,  Jerry  answered  that  he  reckoned  he  could 
keep  it  safe  for  Sary. 

He  had  been  as  good  as  his  boast.  The  little  town 
was  as  full  of  viciousness  as  most  camps;  but  Jerry 
had  defied  it  to  come  near  Sarah,  and  as  he  was  "  a 
bad  man  to  tackle,"  Sarah  had  been  safe. 

She  kept  the  cabin — somehow;  she  got  the  simple 


"  THE  WOMAN  OF  IT  " 

meals;  she  washed  and  mended.  There  wasn't  much 
to  do,  and  there  was  a  dearth  of  things  to  turn 
to  in  the  long,  dragging  hours  of  unemployment. 
But,  after  a  dull  fashion,  the  years  had  worn 
away. 

Sarah  was  twenty,  now.  There  were,  in  the  camp, 
only  three  or  four  respectable  girls  of  ages  near  her 
own;  there  was  Minnie  Darch,  whose  hands  were  full 
helping  her  mother  care  for  the  big  brood  of  young 
children;  there  was  Selma  Ogreen,  who,  to  escape 
a  situation  like  Minnie's,  had  married  Manny  Ort 
and  had  no  joy  of  her  bargain;  and  there  was  Tillie 
Myer,  who  had  been  on  the  eve  of  marrying  Newt 
Evers  when  a  girl  in  the  Coyote  Saloon  shot  and 
killed  him  for  his  intended  desertion. 

"  If  I  told  Al  Brady  I'd  have  him,  like  as  not  one 
o'  them  girls  'd  shoot  him  too,"  Sarah  reflected.  But 
that  wasn't  the  only  reason  she  hadn't  accepted  Al's 
attentions. 

While  she  was  thinking  about  him,  he  came;  and 
for  the  first  time,  Sarah  felt  a  terror  of  him.  Some- 
thing was  gone  out  of  her  life — something  harsh  and 
even,  at  times,  brutal,  but  something  strong  to  protect 
her  against  other  harshness  than  his  own.  While  her 
father  was  alive,  she  had  refused  Al  Brady  without 
a  qualm.  To-night,  she  realized  that  she  had  no  one 
to  sustain  her  in  her  refusal;  no  one  to  keep  her  shel- 
tered and  fed  and  safe  until  she  could  find  a  mate 
whose  call  she'd  gladly  heed. 


294  THE  WORK-A-DAY  GIRL 

"Joe  Darch  told  me  you  was  stayin'  here  alone," 
Al  said,  by  way  of  greeting. 

"Yes;  I  wanted  to  set  quiet  an'  think,"  she  an- 
swered, resentfully. 

Al  ignored  the  thrust. 

"  What  you  goin'  to  do?  "  he  asked,  seating  him- 
self on  the  step  beside  her. 

"  I  ain't  thought  yet." 

"  There's  not  much  to  choose  from."  He  did  not 
attempt  to  conceal  the  satisfaction  in  his  advantage 
that  this  gave  him. 

"I  know  there  ain't  much!"  she  retorted,  mean- 
ingfully. "  But  I  ain't  goin'  to  decide  until  I'm  sure 
I've  had  all  the  choice  there  is." 

He  enjoyed  this  show  of  spirit;  because  he  was 
sure  he  would  win,  and  his  hunter's  instinct  made  him 
relish  a  good  chase,  an  elusive  quarry. 

They  sat  in  silence  for  some  time,  he  smoking  his 
rank  pipe  and  already  proprietary  in  his  air.  Why 
trouble  to  court,  to  please?  Let  her  have  her  moody 
little  fling  of  resistance.  She  couldn't  get  away. 

And  Sarah,  desperately  thinking  on  alternatives, 
grew  faint  of  heart.  There  was  no  sale  in  that  primi- 
tive community  for  the  labour  of  woman's  hands,  ex- 
cept in  a  marriage  contract.  The  women  of  the  camp 
were  of  two  classes  only:  those  who  neither  toiled 
nor  spun  but  were  not  like  the  lilies  of  the  field;  and 
those  who,  in  making  their  bargains  with  men,  in 
order  to  keep  (as  they  hoped)  a  permanent  union, 


"  THE  WOMAN  OF  IT  "  295 

asked  no  wages,  but  accepted,  rather,  the  toil  of  do- 
mestic labour  without  other  pay  than  their  "  keep." 

The  situation  Sarah  faced  was  this:  she  could 
marry  Al  Brady  and  keep  his  cabin  for  him  and  bear 
him  children,  and  in  all  things  do  his  will  or  endure 
his  anger;  or  she  could  go  to  one  of  the  saloons  and 
become  an  attache,  and  work  for  money  and  blows 
and  dishonour ;  or  she  could  go  away  and  try  to  main- 
tain herself  in  some  place  where  there  was  a  market 
for  such  work  as  she  could  do. 

The  life  of  shame  she  would  not  think  of  for  a 
single  instant.  Her  mother  had  accepted  it  for  her 
sake;  but  how  futile  had  been  the  sacrifice!  Nothing 
in  her  troubled  memories  nor  yet  in  her  scant  observa- 
tion, deluded  Sarah  with  regard  to  the  wretchedness 
of  that  living  death. 

And  from  the  thought  of  what  Al  Brady  offered 
her  she  shrank  scarcely  less.  Nor  was  there  in  the 
community  any  man  whose  offer  she  would  have  pre- 
ferred. It  was  to  the  idea  of  getting  away  that  she 
clung.  But  she  had  no  money. 

Some  instinct  made  her  refrain  from  telling  Al 
that  she  hoped  to  go  away.  She  felt  that  his  peace- 
ableness  was  due  to  his  sense  of  security,  and  although 
she  longed  to  show  her  resentment  of  his  attitude,  she 
dared  not — for  fear  of  arousing  fight  in  him.  She 
knew — somehow,  in  her  woman's  heart — that  Al 
would  take  what  he  wanted  if  he  felt  the  least  danger 
of  its  slipping  away  from  him.  So  she  put  off  his 


296  THE  WORK-A-DAY  GIRL 

offer  with  more  gentleness,  to-night,  than  ever  before. 
And  he,  sitting  beside  her  in  the  dusk,  was  gratified; 
he  believed  her  surrender  was  near.  How  could  he 
know  the  peculiar  terror  that  was  hers  to-night  for 
the  first  time  in  her  life?  How  could  he  suspect  that 
the  speech,  fairer  than  usual,  with  which  she  en- 
treated him,  was  guilefully  fair — in  her  own  protec- 
tion— and  not  coyly  fair,  preparing  the  way  for  her 
yielding  ? 

Big  and  brawny  and  forthright  was  Al;  as  ele- 
mental as  some  of  his  prehistoric  progenitors.  He 
was  tired  of  living  as  he  had  been  living :  tired  of  the 
greasy,  "  sour  dough  "  cooking  of  the  saloons ;  tired 
of  buying  the  expensive  favours  of  the  saloon  women 
and  having  no  one  to  wait  upon  those  other  wants 
than  passion  which  every  creature  has.  He  had 
come  to  a  time  when  he  fancied  having  a  cabin  of  his 
own,  and  a  woman  to  keep  it  comfortable  for  him. 
Sarah  was  the  "  likeliest "  girl  he  knew,  so  he  had 
selected  her  for  his  mate.  He  knew,  from  what  he 
had  seen  and  from  what  other  men  had  told  him,  that 
it  was  foolish  to  expect  much  from  any  woman  unless 
he  married  her.  "  The  other  kind,"  as  they  existed 
in  a  place  like  the  camp,  were  disinclined  to  the  rough 
labours  of  housekeeping  in  a  cabin;  also,  they  were 
more  demanding  than  wives,  and  less  dependable. 
They  could  ply  their  trade  and  make  their  living  any- 
where; "  you  got  no  cinch  on  'em,"  as  Al  put  it.  He 
wanted  a  "cinch";  he  wanted  a  woman  who  would 


"  THE  WOMAN  OF  IT  "  297 

feel  bound  to  do  her  best  by  him;  who  would  be  little 
likely  to  run  away;  whose  demandingness  (if  she 
developed  any)  could  be  ignored  without  fear  of  her 
seeking  a  better  market  for  her  labours.  He  was  not 
afraid  of  making  a  marriage  contract  in  order  to 
secure  to  himself  such  a  "  cinch/'  because  he  had  not 
the  slightest  intention  of  allowing  it  to  restrict  him 
in  any  way;  and  he  knew  that  if  he  tired  of  the  ar- 
rangement, nothing  could  be  easier  than  for  him  to 
move  on,  to  some  other  mining  camp,  and  make  a 
fresh  beginning — alone. 

Sarah  knew  all  this;  because  she  had  been  observ- 
ant of  the  common  lot  of  women  as  she  saw  it  about 
her,  and  because  Al  had  not  attempted  to  persuade 
her  that  his  desire  for  her  was  romantic.  He  felt 
that  "  courting "  was  unnecessary.  Instinct,  not 
reason,  made  him  arrogantly  aware  that  Sarah  had 
few  alternatives  and  none  so  promising  as  his  offer. 
She  "  couldn't  afford  to  be  sassy,"  he  told  himself. 
And  he  could!  Because  if  Sarah  didn't  choose  to 
marry  him,  there  were  others  who  would,  even  here 
in  the  camp  with  the  usual  frontier  preponderance  of 
males. 

Mrs.  Darch  had  urged  this  fact  on  Sarah  when  the 
girl  sought  counsel  from  her,  weeks  ago. 

"  He's  the  best-lookin'  an'  other  ways  the  likeliest 
fellow  you  got  to  pick  from,"  she  reminded  Sarah. 
"  An*  yer  lucky  to  live  where  there's  any  pick  or 
choosin'."  In  England,  she  said,  girls  grew  up  in 


298  THE  WORK-A-DAY  GIRL 

« 
the  knowledge  that  for  several  millions  of  them  there 

couldn't  be  any  husband.  '  You  take  what  you  can 
get,  over  there,  I  tell  you!  An'  say  Thankee  for  the 
chance  at  anythin'  at  all !  " 

Yet  Sarah's  mind  clung  desperately  to  the  idea  of 
escape.  Day  after  day  she  planned  and  hoped — as 
the  bacon  and  meal  and  sugar  and  coffee  dwindled  in 
quantity  on  her  cabin's  shelves.  Al  came  around  sev- 
eral times,  and  good-humouredly  asked  her  if  she 
wasn't  ready  for  him  to  "  move  in  " ;  and  srie  con- 
tinued to  put  him  off  without  arousing  his  suspicion. 
Then,  one  night  when  Jerry  Bloodgood  had  been 
more  than  a  fortnight  in  his  sandy  grave,  Bud  Button 
came  lurching  up  the  path  to  the  cabin  door  where 
Jerry's  similarly  unsteady  feet  had  so  often  brought 
him.  Sarah  was  in  bed  and  asleep,  when  Bud 
knocked  at  her  door.  She  threw  her  shawl  about  her 
shoulders  and  went  to  the  door. 

"Who's  there?" 

Bud  announced  himself. 

"What  do  you  want?" 

"  Wanta  see  you,  Dearie." 

"  Well,  I  don't  want  to  see  you,  Bud  Dutton !  You 
get  off  my  place.  What  do  you  mean  by  coming 
around  and  annoying  a  decent  girl  ?  " 

"  Thought  you  might  be  lonesome,"  Bud  answered, 
suggestively,  from  his  side  of  the  barred  door. 

"  If  I  was,  that  wouldn't  make  you  welcome ! " 
Sarah  retorted,  from  her  side. 


«  THE  WOMAN  OF  IT  '  299 

"Ain't  you  goin'  to  lemme  in?" 

"  Not  in  a  million  years,  you  hound! " 

Sarah  was  shaking  with  fright  and  with  anger — 
and  with  weakness,  too;  for  she  had  kept  to  herself 
(lest  the  news  reach  Al  Brady's  ears)  how  meagre 
her  supplies  were. 

Bud  put  his  weight  against  the  door;  but  it  was  a 
stout  door,  and  he  was  enervated  by  drink.  Then  he 
went  from  one  to  the  other  of  the  two  windows. 
Sarah  snatched  down  her  father's  old  hunting-piece 
and  pointed  it  at  Bud's  leering  face.  In  his  alcoholic 
idiocy  he  laughed,  and  did  not  desist  in  his  efforts 
to  climb  in.  Sarah  pulled  the  trigger,  and  Bud  fell 
back,  cursing. 

Her  first  impulse  was  to  flee  to  the  Darchs'  and 
tell  them  what  had  happened.  They  would  believe 
her,  she  thought.  But  would  others,  when  the  story 
got  around,  as  it  was  sure  to  do?  Some  instinct  of 
caution  made  Sarah  hesitate. 

She  went  out  and  stood  over  Bud.  When  she  saw 
that  he  was  helpless,  she  dragged  him  into  the  cabin 
and  looked  for  his  wound;  it  was  in  his  right  shoul- 
der, and  the  pain  of  it  was  sobering  him  rapidly. 

"Can  you  walk?" 

She  helped  him  to  his  feet.  He  cursed  her  hor- 
ribly. 

"  It  serves  you  right,"  she  retorted.  "  I  ain't 
sorry!  If  you  come  here  again,  I'll  aim  to  get  you 
for  good  and  all.  Now  you  go  get  you  'tended  to, 


300  THE  WORK-A-DAY  GIRL 

and  you  can  explain  it  as  you  like;  but  if  you  try  to 
blacken  my  name,  I'll  kill  you.  This  ain't  no  idle 
threat.  I'd  far  rather  die  for  havin'  killed  you  than 
live  most  o'  the  ways  that's  open  to  me." 

The  next  evening  Al  Brady  came.  His  humour 
was  not  so  tolerant  as  it  had  been;  his  supper  "  set  " 
badly. 

"  I'm  gettin'  tired  o'  this  fool  business,"  he  de- 
clared. "  Now,  you  name  the  day — an'  make  it  soon 
—or  I'll  get  Till  Myer  to  do  it." 

Sarah  had  not  been  bred  to  be  exacting,  but  she 
felt  the  insult  none  the  less.  She  had  been  thinking, 
all  day,  of  this  and  her  few  alternatives;  and  more 
than  once,  in  her  hunger  and  her  despair,  she  had 
looked  up  at  her  father's  hunting-piece  and — won- 
dered; but  the  memory  of  that  sandy  grave  restrained 
her. 

:f  You  can  set  it  when  you  like,"  she  answered 
faintly. 

"  That's  a  good  girl,"  Al  commended,  taking  her 
into  his  arms  to  kiss  her  with  a  sudden  access  of  new 
tenderness,  now  that  she  was  his.  And  Sarah,  catch- 
ing the  protective  note,  yielded  herself  unresistingly 
to  his  embrace,  closing  her  eyes  in  an  effort  to  shut 
in  her  flooding  tears. 

II 

Sarah's  marriage  proved  quite  as  productive  of  sat- 
isfaction as  many  another  much  more  romantically 


"  THE  WOMAN  OF  IT  "  301 

inaugurated.  Al  was  a  very  good  sort,  as  men  went 
in  Conchita  Camp.  He  worked  more  steadily  and 
drank  less  excessively  than  most.  And  in  return  for 
Sarah's  unquestioning  obedience  to  his  will  and  for 
her  unremitting  service  in  behalf  of  his  comfort,  he 
gave  her  shelter  and  food  and  protection  against  all 
such  as  Bud  Button,  and  clothes  sufficient  for  her 
needs. 

From  Al's  point  of  view,  the  situation  had  only 
one  drawback:  the  meekness  of  Sarah's  submission. 
He  had  really  liked  her  better,  in  a  way,  in  those  days 
when  she  had  rather  contemptuously  refused  him. 

Sarah  felt  this.  She  felt  that  she  had  just  two 
kinds  of  hold  on  him,  one  through  his  passions  and 
the  other  through  his  comforts;  and  she  was  not  long 
in  realizing  that  the  former  is  a  poor  hold,  because 
there  are  so  many  who  can,  and  will,  gratify  a  man's 
passions,  and  also  because  it  is  so  natural  for  him  to 
fail  of  gratification  in  a  creature  that  cannot  escape 
from  him.  The  instincts  of  the  chase  die  slowly; 
perhaps  they  do  not  die  at  all,  but  in  an  age  when 
men  pursue  sustenance  in  every  other  way  than  the 
primitive  hunter's,  the  game  of  life  is  played  on  the 
same  old  principles.  At  any  rate,  woman's  necessity 
has  always  been,  viewed  in  one  way,  her  bitterest  mis- 
fortune. She  has  had  to  live  with  a  hunter  and  to 
keep,  somehow,  a  hold  on  him  in  spite  of  his  realiza- 
tion of  her  captivity.  But  woman's  guiding  Provi- 
dence has  made  her  necessity  serve  her  progress; 


302  THE  WggK-A-DAY  GIRL 

made  her,  in  her  seeking  to  throw  around  her  lord 
those  meshes  that  might  hold  him  when  the  lure  that 
drew  him  to  her  failed  longer  to  pique  his  interest, 
develop  her  ingenuity,  her  wit,  her  manifold  capa- 
bilities. 

At  first,  Sarah  gave  Al  only  such  degree  of  comfort 
as,  lacking  her,  he  could  have  got  from  any  other 
woman.  And  it  was  not  long  before  she  felt  that 
he  was  not  only  lightly  bound  to  her,  but  growing 
restive.  And  Sarah  knew,  then,  that  she  must  hold 
him  if  she  could,  because  of  one-who-was-to-be. 

It  was  then  that  she  began  to  make  her  simple 
housekeeping  unusual;  to  improve  the  quality  of  her 
cooking;  to  increase  the  cosy  look  of  the  cabin. 

In  those  countries  where  Nature  provides  a  kindly 
climate  and  an  abundance  of  food  to  be  had  for  the 
reaching,  women  have  neither  been  able  to  establish 
any  very  firm  hold  on  the  loyalty  of  men,  nor  to 
develop  any  considerable  independence  of  them.  But 
where  there  is  more  natural  rigour,  more  discomfort, 
woman  has  come  more  measurably  into  her  own,  by 
catering  to  her  lord's  needs  and  making  him  content 
with  her  ministrations.  Comfortable  habits  are  hard 
to  break;  and  as  men  grow  older,  they  form  a 
stronger  bond  than  passion — always  fickle,  always  dy- 
ing of  its  own  satiety — has  ever  formed  between  a 
man  and  a  woman  for  any  length  of  time. 

Like  millions  of  her  predecessors,  Sarah  felt,  in- 
stinctively, that  she  must  hold  Al  with  a  snare  of 


"  THE  WOMAN  OF  IT  " 

creature  comforts.  And  in  obedience  to  this  prompt- 
ing, she  became  quite  remarkably  adept  in  making  the 
most  of  her  simple  resources. 

When  the  baby  came,  Al  manifested  not  much  more 
paternal  delight  than  most  male  animals  show  for 
their  offspring.  A  lion  will  eat  his  cubs,  but  his  mate 
guards  them  with  a  ferocity  more  terrifying  than  any 
he  has  ever  displayed  as  "  King  of  beasts."  Sarah 
realized  that  Al  had  little  sentiment  for  the  tiny 
creature  who  meant  so  much  to  her.  Al  would  not 
cling  to  her  for  the  baby's  sake;  but  for  the  baby's 
sake  she  must  hold  Al! 

In  the  weeks  before  the  baby  came,  and  the  weeks 
following  his  birth,  Al  spent  a  great  deal  of  his  leisure 
away  from  the  cabin;  and  it  was  in  the  first  flush  of 
her  maternal  ecstasy  that  Sarah  learned  of  Al's  return 
to  the  female  society  of  the  Coyote  and  other  saloons. 

Sarah  had  entertained  few  ideals.  She  knew  what 
Al  was,  when  she  took  him.  He  had  not  made  her 
any  promises,  and  she  had  not  asked  him  for  any. 
A  wisdom  deeper  than  that  of  the  women  who  con- 
tinually ask  for  protestations  of  undying  love,  made 
her  realize  how  little  promises  and  protestations  are 
worth;  made  her  feel  that,  in  spite  of  the  marriage 
troth  before  the  justice  of  the  peace,  her  hold  on  Al 
would  be  just  what  she  could  make  it,  and  no  more. 
She  had  no  knowledge  of  the  Scarlet  Women  as  dis- 
seminators of  the  plague  which  rots  homes  as  it  rots 
bodies;  she  had  none  of  that  fear  which  makes  hun- 


304  THE  WORK-A-DAY  GIRL 

dreds  of  thousands  of  recently-enlightened  wives  re- 
gard the  husbands  returning  from  "  primrose  "  dal- 
liance with  no  less  dread  than  if  they  were  coming  to 
their  homes  from  lazar  houses.  She  was  not 
wounded  in  her  ideal,  nor  made  fearful  for  her  health 
and  her  baby's;  but  she  suffered,  none  the  less. 

Mrs.  Joe  Darch  essayed  to  comfort  her. 

"  Don't  take  it  too  hard,  dearie.  So  far  as  my 
knowledge  o'  life  goes,  this  happens  to  most  women. 
It's  one  o'  the  things  that  make  you  believe  we're 
cursed,  like  the  preachers  say.  Otherwise,  why 
should  child-bearin'  be  so  hard  on  us  an'  so  light  on 
him,  an'  yet  the  children  held  to  be  his'n — if  he  wants 
'em — and  not  ourn,  although  we  faced  death  to  give 
'em  birth,  while  he  was  at  tavern,  drinkin'  and  makin' 
gay  with  girls?" 

But  Sarah,  although  she  lived  practically  untouched 
by  the  thought  of  her  day  and  generation,  did  not  in- 
cline to  accept  the  theory  that  women  are  expiating 
the  sin  of  Eve ;  and  Mrs.  Darch's  evangelical  consola- 
tion fell  short  of  its  mark. 

Sarah  was  not  "  modern " ;  she  was  primitive. 
But  she  was  too  primitive  to  be  good  soil  for  Mrs. 
Darch's  mid-Victorian  orthodoxy.  Al  Brady  was 
her  boy's  father.  The  honour  and  the  responsibility 
sat  lightly  on  Al?  She  must  make  it  a  pride  and  a 
delight,  so  Al  would  stick  to  them,  and  work  hard 
for  the  boy,  and  keep  steady  for  the  boy,  and  give 
the  boy  schooling  and  a  chance  to  get  on  in  life. 


«  THE  WOMAN  OF  IT  '  305 

Thus  Sarah's  maternal  passion,  instinctively  refus- 
ing the  doctrine  of  woman-accursed,  became  the  foun- 
dation of  her  power. 

She  taxed  her  ingenuity  to  the  utmost  to  make  the 
cabin  attractive  to  Al;  to  make  his  meals  so  tempting 
that  he  could  not  bear  the  thought  of  the  greasy,  un- 
palatable saloon  food;  to  make  herself  pleasing  to  the 
eye;  to  keep  herself  in  happy  humour.  She  taught 
the  baby  to  hold  out  his  little  arms  to  Al,  and  to  crow 
delightedly  at  sight  of  him. 

Her  little  garden  of  lettuce  and  onions  and  rad- 
ishes had  cucumbers  this  second  summer,  and  squash, 
and  string  beans,  and  a  few  stalks  of  corn.  The  day 
when  she  served  Al,  for  his  dinner,  sweet  corn  on  the 
cob  was  a  day  of  triumph;  he  not  only  praised  it 
loudly  to  her,  but  bragged  of  it  even  more  loudly 
among  his  mates  at  the  mine.  Sarah  was  able  to  sell 
some  of  her  "  truck "  that  summer,  and  buy  a  few 
prettifying  trifles  for  the  home  and  for  baby  and  her- 
self. 

The  men  in  camp  told  Al  he  had  been  "  d 

lucky  "  when  he  got  Sarah.  And  Al  thought  so,  too. 
But  he  didn't  tell  Sarah! 

However,  Sarah  knew  that  she  was  giving  Al  more 
comforts  than  most  of  the  women  in  camp  were  giv- 
ing their  menfolk.  She  knew,  too,  that  he  was  grow- 
ing very  fond  of  little  Al,  and  very  proud  of  him. 
But  money  which  should  have  gone  toward  insurance 
(life,  sickness,  and  accident)  kept  going  into  the  tills 


306  THE  WORK-A-DAY  GIRL 

of  the  Coyote  and  its  competitors.  Al's  occupation 
was  a  hazardous  one.  The  chances  of  his  disable- 
ment or  death  were  high,  and  he  had  made  not  the 
slightest  provision  for  his  family  in  the  event  of  dis- 
aster to  him.  Sarah  urged  such  provision.  She  felt 
entitled  to  it.  Al  ignored  the  urging. 

One  night  he  squandered,  at  the  Coyote,  his 
month's  wages — on  gambling  and  girls  and  drink. 
When  he  came  home,  he  was  penniless,  and 
drunk. 

Sarah  waited  until  he  was  sobered,  and  then  up- 
braided him. 

"  It's  my  money,"  he  retorted.  "  I  earn  it.  I  can 
spend  it  as  I  choose." 

Sarah  did  not  know  how  to  reply;  but  she  did  not 
feel  convinced  because  she  was  silenced. 

It  was  about  this  time  that  the  mine-manager's  wife 
died.  The  best-equipped  house  in  camp  was  without 
a  mistress.  Sarah  knew  herself  to  be  the  most  capa- 
ble woman  in  the  community.  She  could  run  that 
house,  and  earn  good  wages  for  it,  over  and  above 
her  board  and  keep — and  the  baby's!  She  didn't 
need  to  go  hungry,  and  see  her  child  only  half-fed 
because  Al,  careless  of  responsibility  toward  them, 
squandered  their  substance! 

She  reminded  Al  of  this.  He  promised  to  do  bet- 
ter. But  when,  in  answer  to  the  bantering  of  the 
Coyote's  proprietor,  Al  said  "  the  Missus  is  hollerin'," 
that  past-master  in  the  turning  of  a  deaf  ear  to  wives' 


"  THE  WOMAN  OF  IT  ?:  307 

protests  counselled :  "  Let  'er  holler.  She  can't  do 
nothin'." 

"  She  says  she'll  quit  me." 

"  An'  leave  the  kid  ?  Not  on  your  life,  she 
won't!" 

"  No— take  the  kid." 

The  Coyote's  proprietor  laughed  at  Al  as  an  in- 
credible "  softy." 

"  She  can't  take  your  kid  away.  You  can  get  the 
law  on  her !  " 

"That'll  hold  her!"  Al  declared,  grateful  for  the 
advice. 

It  did  "  hold  her."  And,  since  stay  she  must,  she 
put  forth  effort  more  intense  than  she  had  hitherto 
deemed  possible.  She  became  expert  in  the  arts  of 
cajolery. 

Al  had  little  or  no  ambition.  To  have  a  comfort- 
able bunk  to  sleep  in,  and  plenty  of  appetizing,  hearty 
food  ready  for  him  when  he  wanted  it ;  to  have  a  few 
clothes,  and  those  kept  mended  and  washed,  tobacco 
enough  for  his  pipe,  and  money  enough  to  buy  the 
"fellowship"  that  saloons  purvey;  these  were  the 
sum  of  his  desires.  It  was  difficult  to  get  him  to 
aspire  further.  But  Sarah  overcame  the  difficulty. 
Somehow,  by  some  sorcery  of  her  own  invention,  she 
contrived  to  rouse  ambition  in  Al.  She  appealed, 
adroitly,  to  his  vanity,  his  desire  for  prowess.  She 
felt  her  way,  driven  by  her  maternal  love,  guided  by 
her  woman's  instinct,  which  ages  of  maternal  love 


308  THE  WORK-A-DAY  GIRL 

have  made  so  much  more  divining  than  the  instinct 
of  the  self -protective,  self-seeking  male. 

Roused  to  the  pleasurability  of  preeminence,  Al 
coveted  foremanship  of  a  mine  gang — and  got  it. 
Heretofore,  he  had  worked  as  a  slave  works — because 
he  must  work  or  die.  Now  he  began  to  work  with 
a  master's  zest;  to  know  the  pride  of  power,  and  to 
covet  more  of  it.  It  was  an  awakening  indeed.  And 
Sarah,  in  her  cabin,  crooning  her  boy  to  sleep  and 
waiting  for  the  coming  of  "  Baby  Sister,"  was  prais- 
ing Providence  for  the  miracle — and  taxing  to  the 
uttermost  her  woman's  wit,  to  keep  Al  spurred  and 
encouraged. 

One  immediate  result  of  his  better  wages  was  the 
increased  effort  (at  the  Coyote  and  among  its  com- 
petitors) to  get  the  wages  away  from  him.  Sarah 
had  to  fight  against  the  whole  wolf -pack — and  to  keep 
him  from  suspecting  that  she  sought  in  any  way  to 
restrain  him.  Her  success  was  by  no  means  abso- 
lute; but  it  was  measurable  enough  to  make  her  quite 
happy.  She  had  made  some  pretty  clothes  for  Baby 
Sister — prettier  by  a  good  deal  than  the  clothes  which 
commonly  awaited  babies  in  Conchita  Camp — and  one 
evening  when  Al  was  at  home,  some  of  the  neighbour 
women  came  in  to  see  the  tiny  things.  They  praised 
Sarah's  cleverness;  but  Sarah  turned  the  credit  all  to 
Al,  who  made  it  possible  for  her  to  buy  what  she 
wanted. 


"  THE  WOMAN  OF  IT  v  309 

"  It's  a  grand  thing,  bein'  married  to  a  man  with 
gumption,"  one  of  the  women  sighed  enviously. 

Al  smoked,  and  made  feint  of  reading,  and  listened 
"  with  both  ears,"  as  men  almost  invariably  do  when 
women  are  talking  among  themselves.  And  he  be- 
gan, then,  to  feel  a  pride  in  making  his  wife  and  his 
children  still  more  the  envied  of  their  community. 

When  Baby  Sister  came,  Al  hired  Minnie  Darch  to 
take  care  of  "  Buddy  "  and  do  the  housework  and 
wait  on  Sarah,  for  two  weeks.  He  paid  her  ten  dol- 
lars. This  set  all  the  women  in  the  camp  to  talking 
of  "  what  a  grand  husband  "  he  was.  He  was  held 
up  as  an  ideal  of  a  man  both  "  able  an'  willin'  "  to  do 
handsomely  by  his  family.  Al  knew  this — and  he 
liked  the  feeling! 

Things  went  increasingly  well  for  a  year :  Al's  am- 
bition growing;  Sarah's  adaptability  developing. 
Then  came  a  time  of  suppressed  excitement  on  his 
part,  of  suppressed  anxiety  on  hers.  Al  quitted  his 
job.  He  said  he  was  thinking  of  going  ranching,  in 
Southern  California,  and  he  wanted  to  go  out  there 
and  look  things  over.  For  some  reason,  no  one  be- 
lieved him— Sarah  least  of  all.  Her  heart  was  heavy 
with  misgiving;  but  she  couldn't  hold  him. 

When  the  time  for  parting  came,  she  clung  to  him 
in  an  agony  of  apprehension  in  which  fear  lest  she  be 
losing  her  provider  and  the  babies'  was  lost  sight  of 
in  a  greater  dread — that  of  losing  the  mate  who  had 
become  endeared  to  her  by  just  so  much  as  she  had 


310  THE  WORK-A-DAY  GIRL 

suffered  and  toiled  and  hoped  and  planned  for  him. 
He  was  her  child  (in  a  way  that  she  was  as  far  as  he 
from  realizing)  as  well  as  her  man.  Her  life  was 
wound  about  him  infinitely.  She  could  get  her  sus- 
tenance, if  he  left  her  now;  she  could  keep  her  babies 
from  want.  But  that  was  no  longer  what  she 
thought  of  as  life. 

"  You'll  come  back?"  she  pleaded,  her  arms 
around  his  neck,  her  tear-wet  face  against  his  breast. 

"  Why,  of  course  I'll  come  back.  What  do  I  want 
to  go  for  except  to  find  a  better  place  for  you  an'  the 
children?" 

"  Take  us  with  you !  "  she  entreated. 

"  I  can't.  I'll  tell  you,  Sarah,  there's  something 
about  this  that  I  don't  want  nobody  around  here  to 
get  wind  of — or  they'd  be  trailing  me.  But  I've 
heard  of — well!  I  ain't  goin'  to  tell  you  what  I 
heard  of,  for  fear  it'd  slip  out  o'  you  when  you  didn't 
mean  it  to.  You  trust  me,  girl — trust  me  an'  wait. 
I'm  leavin'  you  enough  to  live  on.  And  when  I  find 
what  I'm  after,  I'll  send  for  you.  If  I  don't  find  it, 
I'll  come  back." 

He  found  it!  A  month  after  leaving  home  he 
wrote  her  that  "  the  hunch  was  a  good  one.  But 
don't  say  nothing  to  nobody."  At  the  end  of  another 
month  he  wrote :  "  Things  are  pretty  rough.  But  if 
you  want  to  bring  the  kids  an'  come  along,  I'll  be 
mighty  glad  to  see  you.  I  guess  you've  got  me 
spoiled  for  camp-cooking." 


"  THE  WOMAN  OF  IT  '  311 

So  Sarah  took  her  babies  and  a  few  of  the  most 
necessary  household  articles,  and  went  into  the  wil- 
derness, where  Al  had  located  "  pay-dirt."  And 
there  she  made  him  comfortable  and  happy  for  five 
years.  There  she  gave  birth  to  two  more  children. 
There  she  watched  a  tiny  community  grow  around 
Al,  obedient  to  his  mastery;  and  the  triumph  was 
sweeter  to  her  even  than  to  him. 

She  was  sorry  when  he  said  they  ought  to  leave 
camp;  to  go  where  their  children  could  have  schooling 
and  other  advantages,  and  where  they  themselves 
could  buy  luxuries  and  pleasures  with  the  money  that 
was  now  theirs.  There,  in  the  wilderness,  she  was 
everything  to  Al:  creator  of  all  his  comforts;  com- 
panion; wife  of  his  bosom,  mother  of  his  children, 
architect  of  his  fortune.  He  came  to  her  in  every 
perplexity  and  in  every  triumph.  She  was  loath  to 
adventure,  with  her  golden  galleon  of  happiness,  into 
an  unknown  sea.  But  she  told  herself  that  she  must 
not  be  selfish;  must  not  stand  in  the  way  of  those 
she  loved. 

In  the  city  where  they  took  up  their  residence,  Al 
bought  his  family  a  handsome  house.  Sarah  was 
appalled  at  the  idea  of  having  to  buy  so  much  furni- 
ture, and  to  create  a  home  out  of  so  much  new  ma- 
terial. This  new  life  had  grown  out  of  neither  her 
needs  nor  her  desires ;  it  was  thrust  upon  her,  and  she 
had  to  make  what  shift  she  could  not  only  to  adapt 
herself  to  the  new  life  but  also  (because  she  was  a 


312  THE  WORK-A-DAY  GIRL 

woman  who  had  long  known  the  happiness  of  feeling 
that  the  conditions  of  her  life  were  largely  of  her 
making)  to  find  some  coign  of  mastery  from  which 
she  could  shape  and  direct  and  serve  as  she  had  been 
wont  to  do. 

She  struggled  heroically  to  meet  Al's  idea  of  the 
way  he  wanted  his  house  to  look,  his  wife  and  chil- 
dren to  appear.  They  went  through  the  regular 
course:  first  they  acquired  the  things  that  seemed  to 
be  needful — the  furnishings,  the  clothes  and  jewel- 
lery; then  they  strove  for  the  manner  which  seemed 
to  make  some  people's  possessions  dignified  and  en- 
viable— education  for  the  children,  "  cultivation " 
and  travel  for  the  adults. 

Al  was  interested  in  the  family  progress;  but  he 
was  also  very  deeply  interested  in  the  progress  of  the 
mine.  He  travelled  back  and  forth  a  great  deal,  be- 
tween the  mine  and  the  city  where  he  was  investing 
the  mine  profits.  His  world  was  widening,  day  by 
day.  And  day  by  day  Sarah  knew  less  about  it — 
not  because  he  was  consciously  shutting  her  out,  but 
because  many  of  his  new  concerns  were  so  remote 
from  anything  in  her  experience  that  he  did  not 
think  of  them  as  likely  to  interest  her.  The  days 
were  gone  by  when,  on  his  telling  her  "  that  nasty 
piece  of  wall  in  the  east  chamber  has  caved  again," 
she  knew  exactly  what  he  meant,  and  the  amount  of 
setback  entailed  upon  his  plans. 

He  gave  her  generously  of  his  earnings;  but  she 


"  THE  WOMAN  OF  IT  "  313 

felt  the  widening  separation  between  them,   and  it 
made  her  heart  heavy. 

As  in  the  old  days,  when  he  was  made  foreman  of 
a  gang,  there  was  no  lack  of  those  who  were  eager  to 
share  his  increase.  But  Sarah  had  known  how  to 
draw  him  away  from  the  wiles  of  those  wantons  and 
wastrels  of  the  Coyote;  she  had  opposed  their  lure 
with  the  lure  of  such  comforts  at  home  as  tended  to 
draw  him  thither,  and  such  tender  cajolery  as  tended 
to  keep  him  happy  there.  Now,  there  was  small 
question  of  creature  comfort.  He  could  buy  himself 
a  high  degree  of  comfort  for  a  tithe  of  what  he  gave 
her  to  keep  her  house.  The  hunger  he  felt,  now, 
was  not  the  primitive  man's  hunger  for  satisfying 
food,  for  refreshing  sleep,  and  for  absolute  obedience 
to  his  desires;  it  was  the  hunger  of  the  somewhat 
sated  man,  filled  to  repletion  with  the  common  satis- 
factions, and  seeking  stimulus  for  new  appetite  rather 
than  satiety  for  old  ones.  The  eagerness  of  young 
and  pretty  and  elegant  women  to  attract  his  admira- 
tion, flattered  his  vanity.  The  obsequiousness  paid 
to  his  money  he  easily  mistook  for  tribute  to  those 
qualities  of  his  by  which  he  made  money.  Sarah's 
intuition  did  not  fail  her,  now;  she  realized  what  she 
had  to  contend  against;  but  she  was  sore  beset  to 
think  how  she  should  plan  her  fight. 

She  did  what  she  could  to  make  herself  pretty  and 
''smart"  and  clever;  but,  studying  the  situation  to 
discover  what,  if  anything,  held  men  loyal  to  their 


THE  WORK-A-DAY  GIRL 

wives  in  this  stratum  of  society  where  there  was  so 
little  natural  partnership  between  them,  she  satisfied 
herself  that  it  was  very  difficult  for  housekeeping  skill 
to  hold  a  man  whose  business  keeps  him  away  from 
home  a  good  part  of  the  time,  and  whose  income  en- 
ables him  to  purchase  for  himself,  wherever  he  is, 
the  highest  degree  of  comfort  and  service.  She  sat- 
isfied herself,  also,  that  it  was  very  difficult  for  a 
woman  to  achieve  and  to  retain  a  degree  of  personal 
attractiveness  which  could  hold  secure  against  rival- 
ries the  admiration  of  a  man  for  whom  a  continual 
succession  of  fresh  young  beauties  assiduously  flaunt 
their  charms.  What  did  hold  them?  Paternal 
pride?  Sarah  scanned  her  new  world  for  evidence 
of  this.  If  only  she  could  get  confirmation  for  her 
fond  hope  that,  notwithstanding  all  that  tends  to 
separate  husbands  and  wives  in  this  complex  modern 
world,  their  common  interest  in  their  children  tends 
still  more  strongly  to  hold  them  together!  But  ob- 
servation did  not  sustain  this  hope.  She  saw,  as 
time  went  on,  a  good  many  families  go  upon  the 
rocks,  and  in  a  number  of  them  the  parents  had  each 
an  interest  in  the  children,  yet  no  longer  any  interest 
in  each  other. 

The  women  in  this  new  world  of  hers  seemed  to 
her  to  be  trying  desperately  to  divert  themselves. 
They  had  a  surprising  number,  but  a  tragically  small 
variety,  of  diversions  with  which  they  appeared  to 
be  "  killing  time,"  rather  than  in  any  way  lessening 


"  THE  WOMAN  OF  IT  '  315 

the  gulf  between  their  husbands'  interests  and  their 
own. 

Groping,  stumbling,  but  never  despairing,  Sarah 
went  on.  All  around  her,  women  gave  up — some  in 
one  way  and  some  in  another.  Some  became  mothers 
preeminently  and  wives  only  in  name;  some  spent 
their  efforts  on  attaining  social  or  club  distinction; 
some  dallied  with  the  arts;  some  sought  divorce,  and 
entered  hopefully  upon  a  new  marriage;  some  settled 
into  neurasthenia  or  hypochondria;  some  threw  their 
unemployed  energies  into  Foreign  Missions  or  Chris- 
tian Science  or  Suffrage.  Sarah  considered  all  these 
things,  successively  (except  divorce),  but  not  as 
alternatives  for  that  working  partnership  with  her 
husband  which  she  had  once  enjoyed — she  considered 
them  as  possible  paths  she  and  Al  might  travel  to- 
gether. 

At  length  a  way  opened  to  her.  Other  paths  had 
looked  as  promising  and  had  led  nowhither.  Never- 
theless, she  tried  this  one.  It  might  be  the  "  way 
out."  For  her,  it  was.  She  joined  the  City  Club. 
She  attended  its  lectures  zestfully.  She  learned  a 
great  deal  about  social  service  and  civic  programmes 
and  the  need  of  enlightened,  enthusiastic  citizenship. 
Then,  as  once  upon  a  time  she  had  roused  one  kind 
of  ambition  in  Al  and  lured  him  from  the  debauchery 
of  the  Coyote  to  self-respect  and  success,  so  now  she 
roused  in  him  another  kind  of  ambition — the  ambition 
to  serve ;  to  win  esteem  not  for  what  he  could  acquire 


316  THE  WORK-A-DAY  GIRL 

but  for  the  good  he  might  do  with  it.  The  second 
conquest  was  not  so  difficult  as  the  first,  and  it  ad- 
mitted Sarah  to  a  partnership  even  more  active  than 
she  had  known  before.  It  was  thus  Sarah  regained 
her  happiness.  It  was  thus  she  found  her  way  out. 

I  ask  you  to  consider  Sarah's  story  as  typifying 
and  epitomizing  woman's  upward  struggle  through 
ages  of  human  history.  Few  women  have  lived  so 
much  of  that  history  as  Sarah,  in  the  span  of  a  single 
lifetime;  but  for  one  woman  to  comprehend  it  all 
within  her  own  experience  would  not  be  at  all  im- 
possible. 

However,  I  have — in  writing — had  not  one  woman, 
but  Womanhood,  in  mind.  From  the  time  when 
woman  took,  perforce,  a  protector  and  defender  be- 
cause life  for  woman  alone  was  not  possible  in  primi- 
tive times  or  conditions,  down  through  the  course  of 
the  ages  her  struggle  as  a  subservient  creature  to  im- 
prove the  conditions  of  living  has  been  the  struggle 
of  her  race  for  civilization.  What  she  has  striven 
for,  to  that  has  her  social  order  attained. 

She  strove,  first,  to  make  her  man  comfortable. 
He  was  a  roving,  predatory,  fighting  animal;  none  of 
his  instincts  impelled  him  to  "  stay  put,"  either  in 
place  or  in  fealty.  If  she  wanted  to  keep  him,  she 
must  give  him  something  that  would  bring  him  back 
to  her  each  time  he  fared  forth.  He  had  no  natural 
love  of  his  offspring,  no  natural  sense  of  responsi- 


«  THE  WOMAN  OF  IT  "  317 

bility  toward  them.  To  hold  him  to  them,  to  herself, 
and  to  their  biding  place,  was  a  stupendous  under- 
taking; but  she  addressed  herself  to  it,  unflinchingly. 
She  essayed  to  create  meshes  of  comfort  and  of  cus- 
tom which  might  hold  her  restive  freebooter.  Think 
of  the  task!  She  was  virtually  his  slave,  because  so 
her  necessity  made  her.  Against  his  bestiality  or  his 
brutality  or  his  infidelity  or  his  desertion,  she  had  no 
redress.  Because  she  wanted  a  home  to  rear  her 
children  in,  and  a  home  must  have  a  defender  and  a 
provider,  she  submitted  herself  abjectly,  absolutely  to 
the  terms  on  which  man  would  take  her.  And  yet, 
she — slave  that  she  had  become — undertook  to  create 
in  her  lord  and  master  a  degree  of  dependence  on  her 
which  would  bring  him  back  to  her,  no  matter  how 
far  he  might  roam  in  the  chase  or  in  war  or  in  any 
other  of  his  roving  pursuits;  she  undertook  to  make 
him  fond  of  their  children,  and  proud  of  them,  and 
eager  to  do  well  by  them ;  she  undertook  to  wean  his 
vaingloriousness  from  pride  of  prowess  in  the  hunt, 
in  fight,  to  pride  of  possessions  which  his  family 
shared  in  his  lifetime  and  inherited  at  his  death. 
Think  of  the  task! 

As  fast  as  she  taught  herself  the  domestic  crafts, 
she  submitted  to  his  taking  them  from  her  and  mak- 
ing them  his — because  so  she  kept  him  at  home  and 
bound  his  interests  closet  with  hers. 

Then  came  those  tremendous  economic  changes 
brought  about  by  machinery,  the  centralization  and 


318  THE  WORK-A-DAY  GIRL 

specialization  of  industry;  and  woman  was  con- 
fronted with  a  thousand  new  problems  of  adjustment. 
The  tendency  of  the  new  order  was  separative.  Man 
had  developed — measurably — the  home  instinct;  he 
had  come — measurably — to  accept  monogamy,  to  re- 
spect the  obligations  of  husbandhood  and  parenthood. 
But  these  were  the  developments  of  habit;  under- 
neath lay  the  old  freebooter  instincts;  and  the  new 
order  threatened  to  give  those  instincts  a  chance  to 
throw  off  some  of  the  restraining  habit.  Man  goes 
afield  again  for  sustenance;  his  pursuit  of  it  leads  him 
whither  his  mate  cannot  follow.  Much  of  his  life  is 
lived  beyond  her  fellowship,  beyond  her  ken.  They 
have  no  community  of  interest  in  his  labour — only 
community  of  interest  in  its  wages.  They  have  an 
increasingly  small  number  of  common  social  concerns. 
They  have  alarmingly  little  connection  in  their 
children — whose  education  and  whose  pleasures  and, 
eventually,  whose  work  in  the  world,  tend  more  and 
more  to  withdraw  them  from  that  close  association 
with  their  parents  which  a  community  of  working  in- 
terests fosters. 

A  few  years  ago,  Woman — the  daughter  of  all 
those  generations  of  mothers  who  had  fought  so  hard 
to  create  homes — faced  what  seemed  to  be  the  stiffest 
situation  in  the  history  of  her  race :  She  saw  the  old 
idea  of  home  breaking  up  under  the  economic  pres- 
sure that  drove  her  husband  forth  to  become  an  in- 
dustrial unit ;  under  the  social  pressure  that  drove  her 


"  THE  WOMAN  OF  IT  '  319 

children  forth  to  acquire  their  preparation  for  life  at 
the  hands  of  specialists  in  education — teachers;  under 
the  domestic  pressure  which  cramped  her  facilities 
for  performing  the  labour  necessary  to  sustain  her 
own  household,  and  made  her  a  spender  of  wages 
rather  than  a  producer  of  things  needful.  The  nat- 
ural tendency  of  play  is  for  it  to  grow  out  of  work 
or  out  of  the  conditions  and  associations  that  work 
engenders;  in  consequence,  her  husband  and  chil- 
dren not  only  worked  remote  from  her  and  from  her 
knowledge  of  their  problems  and  defeats  and  victo- 
ries, but  they  found  much  of  their  recreation  among 
those  who  did  have  knowledge  of  their  labours  and 
common  interest  in  them. 

There  stood  the  housemother — undisputed  director 
of  a  home  which  was  no  more  than  a  lodging-place  to 
her  mate  and  to  their  brood.  If  she  wanted  amuse- 
ments, she  must  seek  them  among  her  own  kind.  If 
she  wanted  outlet  for  her  unemployed  energies,  she 
must  find  it  as  best  she  could. 

Hence  her  much-derided  clubs  and  teas  and  lunch- 
eons and  study  classes;  her  leagues  for  the  protection 
of  this  and  the  suppression  of  that  and  the  develop- 
ment of  t'other. 

Multitudes  of  women  are  still  groping  their  way 
blindly  through  a  morass  of  foolish  "hen-parties"; 
others  have  progressed  as  far  as  Browning  or  Brahms 
clubs;  others  are  studying  Current  Events;  and  some 
are  grappling  with  "  Neighbourhood  Improvement," 


320  THE  WORK-A-DAY  GIRL 

or  "  The  Shame  of  Our  City."  Fools  laugh  at  them. 
But  any  one  who  knows  aught  of  human  history 
looks  on  in  admiration  too  deep  for  words. 

What  is  she  doing,  that  dauntless  creature  who  for 
ages  endured  all  things,  endeavoured  in  all  things  that 
she  might  found  a  home,  and  who  now  feels  herself 
mistress  of  an  empire  whose  glory  has  departed? 
She  is  doing  what  she  has  always  done:  she  is  strug- 
gling to  turn  defeat  into  victory,  to  create  out  of  her 
deprivation,  her  necessity,  a  new  progress  for  the  race. 
She  is  striving  to  establish  a  new  communion  of  in- 
terests with  her  mate  and  with  their  children.  If  the 
work  of  the  world  must  evermore  be  divided,  and 
dividing,  then  she  must  weave  her  bonds  out  of  other 
things  than  those  done  to  sustain  life :  she  must  estab- 
lish her  co-partnership  in  those  things  which  are 
done  to  beautify  life,  and  to  justify  it. 


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